1V>j 


V^ 


>*1 


RAMBLES  IN  ITALY 


IN    THE 


YEARS  1816....17. 


BY  JIN  AMERICAN. 


Per  varios  casus  per  tot  discrimina  rerum 
Tendimus 


BALTIMORE : 

PUBLISHED  BY  N.  G.  MAXWELL,  No.  140,  MARKET-ST, 


1.  Robinson,  printer. 

1818. 


District  of  Maryland,  to  wit: 

BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  That  on  this  Seventh   day 

£*******£  0f"  May,  in  the  forty-second  year  of  the  Impendence  of 

!  seal  |  the  United  States  of  America,  Nathaniel  G.  Maxwell, 

******->**  of  the  said  District,  hath  deposited  in  this  office  the 

title   of    a  Book,  the  right  whereof  he  claims  as  proprietor ; 

in  the  words  following,  to  wit: — 

"  Rambles  in  Italy,  in  the  years  1 816 — 17.     By  an  American. 

Per  varios  casus  per  tot  discrimina  rerum 
Tendinitis. 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States, 
entitled,  "  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning-,  by  secur- 
ing*' the  copies  of  maps,  charts  and  books,  to  the  authors  and 
proprietors  of  such  copies  during"  the  times  therein  mentioned-'* 
And  also  to  the  act,  entitled,  "  An  act  supplementary  to  an 
act,  entitled,  "  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning',  by 
securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  authors 
and  proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein  men- 
tioned," and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  de- 
signing, engraving,  and  etching  historical  and  other  prints." 

PHILIP  MOORE,  Clerk 

District  of  Mil . 


DO 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


A  he  title  prefixed  to  the  following 
sketches  may  be  considered  as  a  palli- 
ation of  the  offences  committed  in 
them  against  the  established  canons  of 
criticism.  The  appellation  of  tour,  or  tra- 
vels, would  have  implied  upon  the  whole 
a  view  much  more  extensive,  and  a  more 
minute  specification  of  facts,  than  will 
be  found  in  the  ensuing  pages.  In  some 
measure  it  would  also  have  been  incon- 
sistent with  that  freedom  of  digressional 
remark,  and  those  remote  analogies  and 
comparisons  in  which  the  author 
has  indulged,  and  which  naturally  pre- 
sent themselves  to  the  mind,  in  a  coun- 
try, that  gives  so  continual  a  play  to 
the  imagination,  as  Italy. 


91  J 470 


4 

The  author  visited  Italy,  labouring  un- 
der a  pulmonary  affection,  and  was  com- 
pelled during  the  first  year  of  his  resi- 
dence in  that  country,  to  attend  almost 
exclusively  to  the  re-establishment  of 
bis  health.  Pleasure  and  business  which 
open  a  field  for  observation,  and  furnish 
opportunities  of  information,  would  have 
been  incompatible  with  the  infirmities 
of  a  debilitated  constitution.  When  he 
was  so  far  restored  as  to  travel  and  to  ob- 
serve, his  inquiries  were  governed  by  tin* 
casual  impulses  of  curiosity  and  taste,  ra- 
ther than  directed  with  the  view  of  collect- 
ing such  information,  as  might  enable  him 
to  supply  the  deficiencies  in  the  excellent 
works  on  Italy,  already  before  the  publick. 
Nothing  at  that  time  could  have  been 
further  from  his  mind,  than  the  idea  of 
writing  a  book.  A  few  hastily  composed 
sketches  of  the  scenery  and  manners  of 
Italy,  were  the  only  memorials  he  pre- 
served of  his  travels.  To  these  he  has 
sometimes  had  recourse,  in  order  to  re- 
new  on   his  memory,  the  almost  faded 


images  of  a  country,  which  he  visited 
with  so  much  delight.  Some  partial 
friends  to  whom  he  exhibited  these 
sketches,  suggested  the  idea,  and  urged 
the  propriety  of  the  publication  which 
is  now  offered  to  the  publick. 

To  what  has  been  already  alleged  in 
extenuation  of  its  faults,  may  be  added 
the  difficulty  of  saying  any  thing  new 
on  the  subject  of  Italy.  This,  although 
a  consideration  not  likely  to  have  its 
due  weight  with  the  publick,  is  one, 
upon  which  the  author  is  inclined  to 
lay  peculiar  stress,  because  he  has  felt 
it  in  all  its  force.  No  country  affords  so 
noble  a  field  for  the  talent  of  writing,  as 
Italy ;  at  the  same  time  perhaps  there  is 
none  on  which  more  ability  of  tbis  kind 
has  been  displayed.  He  must  possess  a 
confidence  in  his  own  powers  almost  unli- 
mited, who  does  not  irresolutely  ap- 
proach a  subject  already  decorated  with 
the  brilliant  eloquence  of  Madame  de 
Staei,   and  which  has  been  so   fully  and 


faithfully  illustrated  and  described  by  the 
v    classick  pen  of  Eustace. 

In  treading  a  beaten  track,  an  author's 
solicitude  to  screen  himself  from  the 
charge  of  plagiarism,  and  to  avoid  the 
footsteps  of  those  by  whom  he  has  been 
preceded,  is  apt  to  betray  him  into  pue- 
rility or  bombast ;  he  must  exaggerate 
or  confine  himself  to  the  relation  of  bar- 
ren and  insignificant  anecdotes — Some 
novelty  the  author  has  endeavoured  to 
give  the  following  work,  by  blending 
with  description,  occasional  remarks  on 
the  late  political  changes  in  Italy.  He 
originally  contemplated  a  plan  which 
would  have  included  a  general  view  of 
the  literature  of  Italy — the  present 
state  of  its  learned  institutions,  and 
some  account  of  their  most  eminent  pro- 
fessors ;  and  the  work  in  its  present  form 
would  have  been  given  much  earlier  to 
the  publick,  if  it  had  not  been  delayed 
by  the  continued  hope  of  obtaining  the 
necessary  materials  for  that  purpose. 


Inelegancies  of  diction  will  be  readily 
pardoned,  when  it  is  considered  that 
the  time  allotted  to  composition,  was 
subtracted  from  professional  studies. 
In  consequence,  too,  of  the  haste  with 
which  he  has  been  sometimes  obliged  to 
furnish  manuscript  for  the  press,  and 
the  rapidity  with  which  he  has  occasion- 
ally revised  proof-sheets,  some  inaccu- 
racies of  a  grammatical  and  typogra- 
phical nature  have  escaped  the  author ; 
these,  however  painful  they  may  be  to 
his  eye,  will  hardly,  he  trusts,  be  consi- 
dered by  liberal  criticks  as  unpardonable 
blemishes  in  a  writer,  who  for  the  first 
time  has  had  occasion  to  exercise  some- 
thing of  that  attention  to  minute  elegance 
which  is  required  in  every  composition 
destined  for  the  publick. 

After  all,  the  author  goes  forward  be- 
fore the  world  not  much  depressed  by 
fear,  and  not  much  elated  by  hope.  Cri- 
ticism is  the  fasbion  of  the  day,  and 
when  he   sees  authors  of  much   higher 


8 

pretensions  than  himself,  subjected  to  its 
unsparing  censures,  it  would  be  foolish 
even  beyond  the  privilege  allowed  the 
sanguine  character  of  youth,  to  expect 
greater  favour  than  has  been  shewn 
to  tbose  who  have  made  their  literary 
debut  with  much  fairer  claims  to  indul- 
gence. 


Italia  !  Italia !  O  tu  cui  feo  la  sortie, 
Bono  mfelice  di  bellezza,  ond'hai 
Funesta  dote  d'infiniti  guai, 
Che  in  fronte  scritti  per  gran  doglia  porte. 

Deh  fossi  ta  men  bella,  O  alraen  piu  forte ! 

FUICAIA. 


To  an  American  whose  eye  has  been  uni- 
formly accustomed  to  the  lakes,  rivers,  and  fo- 
rests, of  the  new  world,  the  general  aspect  of 
Italy,  at  first,  is  not  striking,  nor  even  pleas- 
ing. The  magnificent  features  which  nature 
has  given  to  America,  cast  into  the  shade,  the 
comparatively  diminutive  beauties,  of  Italian 
scenery.  Vineyards,  and  plantations  of  olives, 
make  but  a  poor  figure,  when  compared  with 


the  rich  verdure,  of  our  interminable  forests; 
\/  and  the  Tyber  and  the  Arno,  though  renowned 
in  song,  would  shrink  into  rills,  by  the  side  of 
the  Hudson,  or  the  Potomack.  He  remem- 
bers with  what  an  overflowing  hand  nature  has 
poured  out  her  riches  on  the  soil  of  the  new 
world  ;  and  he  is  unable  to  reconcile  the  gene- 
ral appearance  of  Tuscany,  and  Romagna,  with 
the  idea  of  a  country,  on  which  nature  has  be- 
stowed her  gifts  with  lavish  profusion.  He 
contrasts,  too,  the  fallen  magnificence  and  lan- 
guid air  of  her  cities,  with  that  increasing  pros- 
perity and  promise  of  future  greatness,  that  is 
every  where  visible  in  America. 

Whilst  his  mind  is  wholly  occupied  with  this 
comparison,  he  is  apt  to  overlook  circumstances, 
in  the  present  condition  of  Italy,  which  endear 
her  to  the  classick  mind.  He,  perhaps,  does  not 
reflect  how  long  this  soil  has  been  trodden  down 
by  the  foot  of  man, — how  long  it  has  yielded  its 
annual  tribute  to  the  labours  of  the  husbandman, 
— how  long  it  has  been  fatigued  by  the  toils  of 
glory  : — how  often  armies  of  barbarians  rush- 
ing from  its  mountains,  and  more  withering  in 
their  progress  than  Alpine  blasts,  have  swept 
over  the  surface,  of  this  fair  peninsula.  Every 
where  it  exhibits  scars  of   human  violence  ; — 


every  object  announces,  how  long  it  has  been 
the  theatre  of  man's  restless  passions ; — every 
thing  bears  evidence  of  its  complete  subjection 
to  his  power.  The  moral  and  intellectual  gran- 
deur of  Italy,  like  that  of  her  architectural  mo- 
numents, is  mutilated  and  faded.  Her  civil  and 
political  institutions  are  exhausted  and  decrepid, 
and  are  hastening  to  their  extinction,  by  a  rapid 
declension.  Yet  in  this  land,  where  the  works 
of  art  and  human  policy  are  bowed  beneath  the 
weight  of  years,  nature  is  still  as  youthful  as  in 
the  golden  age,  and,  as  if  she  delighted  to  dis- 
play her  creative  energy,  and  her  imperishable 
dominion  on  the  very  spot  where  time  has  le- 
velled the  structures  of  art ;  the  ruins  of  pala- 
ces and  temples  are  dressed  in  the  choicest  offer- 
ings of  Flora,  and  the  twice  blooming  rose  of 
Psestum*  glows  with  undiminished  beauty,  in 
the  midst  of  scenes  of  decayed  magnificence, 
and  smiles  on  the  brow  of  desolation. 

Reflections  of  this  kind,  when  they  have 
their  full  operation  upon  the  mind,  have  a  ten- 
dency to  diminish  the  force  of  those  early  im- 
pressions, which  are  apt  to  render  an  American 

*  Biferaque  rosaria  Paesti. 


insensible  to  the  charms  of  this  interesting 
country.  His  taste,  without  losing  any  of  its 
discriminating  power,  becomes  more  vigorous 
and  enlightened ;  a  new  species  of  beauty,  is 
unveiled  to  his  perceptions,  and  a  source  of  re- 
fined enjoyment  opened,  as  soon  as  he  learns 
to  subdue  the  influence  of  early  habits  and  local 
associations. 

In  America,  the  prodigal  fertility  of  nature, 
and  that  colossal  greatness,-  by  which  she  has  dis- 
tinguished the  features  of  the  new,  from  those 
of  the  old  continent,  divert  the  attention  from 
her  more  delicate  and  concealed  charms.  Untu- 
tored by  art,  she  riots  with  a  juvenile  vigour, 
and  plays  "  her  virgin  fancies"  uncontrolled. 
She  is  an  artist  who  negligent  of  lesser  graces, 
astonishes  even  the  dullest  observer,  by  a  crea- 
tive brilliancy.  But  there  are,  in  the  scenery  of 
Italy,  latent  and  refined  beauties,  which  only 
the  eye  of  taste  can  discover. 

Our  country  is  not  picturesque.  How  often 
in  attempting  to  delineate  her  inimitable  form, 
has  the  hand  of  the  artist  fallen  in  despair  ? 
This,  in  my  opinion,  constitutes  the  principal 
distinction  betw.een  our  trans-atlantick  scenes, 


5 


which  defy  the  imitation  of  the  pencil,  and  those 
of  a  country,  whose  natural  beauties  lie  within 
a  narrow  compass,  are  heightened  by  classical 
and  moral  associations,  and  have  an  appearance 
©f  being  purposely  arranged  for  the  canvass. 

A  gentleman,  for  whose  judgment  and  taste 
I  have  the  highest  esteem,  told  me  at  Messina, 
that  he  could  not  overcome  his  dislike  to  the  na- 
ked and  exposed  appearance  of  Sicily  and  Ca- 
labria, which  convinces  me,  how  difficult  it  is 
for  an  American  to  resist  the  influence  of  associ- 
ations formed  at  a  period  of  life,  when  the  sensi- 
bilities are  unworn,  and  the  heart  and  the  ima_ 
gination  peculiarly  susceptible  of  impressions 
from  external  objects.  The  land  of  Sicily  and 
Calabria,  composed  as  it  is  for  the  greater  part 
of  lava,  wears,  at  a  distance,  an  appearance  of 
sterility.  But  this  illusion  is  corrected  upon  ex- 
amining more  narrowly  the  properties  of  the 
soil,  and  the  rich  variety  of  plants  and  flowers  it 
spontaneously  produces.  A  drapery  more  lux- 
uriant would  be  prejudicial  to  its  beauty  ;  ex- 
tensive forests  would  obstruct  the  view  of  the 
outline  of  the  distant  mountains,  or  conceal 
the  surface  of  a  country,  gracefully  diversified  by 
hills  and  vallies,  and  dressed  by  the  hand  of  cnl- 


tivation.  Poussin  and  Claude  Lorraine  might 
here  have  studied  the  theory  of  their  art,  so  har- 
moniously combined  are  all  its  features,  and  so 
happily  blended  are  the  colours  of  the  sea,  the 
land  and  the  sky,  to  please  the  eye  and  enchant 
the  imagination.  Having  doubled  the  south- 
most  point  of  Calabria,  the  country  of  Theocri- 
tus presents  itself  before  you.  The  cerulean* 
waves  that  encircle  it,  appear  still  to  be  the  fa- 
vourite haunt  of  sea-gods,  and  syrens,  and  its 
enchanting  shores  still  seem  to  echo  with  the 
complaints  of  the  despairing  Galatea.  The  dark 
luxuriant  foliage  of  the  orange,  intermixed  with 
the  pale  verdure  of  the  olive,  and  the  large  flow- 
ering aloe,  which  displays  its  broad  leaves  upon 
the  summits  of  the  nearest  hills,  form  the  princi- 
pal features  of  the  Sicilian  shores,  while  opposite, 
Calabria  stretches  to  the  foot  of  the  snowy   Ap- 

*  To  those  who  have  navigated  the  Mediterranean, 
it  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  remark,  how  much  deeper 
and  more  vivid  its  colours  are,  than  those  of  the  ocean. 
In  the  neighbourhood  of  Sicily,  I  have  seen  it  of  a  deep 
violet  colour,  and  have  frequently  remarked  the  same 
appearance  in  the  Adriatick.  Hence,  Virgil's  "  mare 
purpureum,"  Lord  Byron's  "purple  of  ocean,"  expres- 
sions, the  beauty  and  propriety  of  which,  are  not  easily 
nnderstood,  by  an  inhabitant  of  the  north  of  Europe. 


penines,  its  rich  fields  and  vineyards,  gay  with 
country  houses  and  villages.  Contrasted  with 
these  scenes  of  delicious  repose,  is  the  busy 
city  of  Messina,  its  port  crowded  with  Levant 
ships,  and  its  mixed  population  diversified  with 
Moorish  and  Asiatick  costumes,  collected  in 
groups  on  the  quay,  or  basking  in  the  sun, 
and  as  is  the  custom  of  the  south,  alternately 
relapsing  from  a  state  of  vigorous  exertion,  into 
a  state  of  unmanly  indolence. 

This  country  has  an  aspect  of  such  sweetness 
and  innocence,  that  you  would  suppose  it  to  be 
the  residence  of  angelick  natures.  But  in  the 
bosom  of  this  soil,  so  pregnant  with  flowers, 
are  nourished  earthquakes  and  volcanoes,  and 
this  peojale  so  gentle  and  so  blandishing,  are  the 
descendants  of  those  who  conceived  and  execut- 
ed the  horrid  tragedy  of  the  Sicilian  vespers. 

The  father  of  poetry  has  given  an  eternal  in- 
terest to  the  straits  of  Messina. — Scylla  and 
Carybdis! — At  these  names,  how  many  classi- 
cal images  and  associations  are  awakened  !  The 
echo  of  the  waves  upon  the  Calabrian  shore, 
produce  a  sound  at  midnight  which  the  stillness 
of  the  hour,  assisted  by  the  witchery  of  fancy, 
may    transform  into   the  howlings    of  Scylla. 


V 


But  the  light  of  the  morning  dispels  theromantick 
illusion,  and  the  eye  seeks  in  vain  for  any  vestige 
of  Scylla,  except  a  little  village  that  has  usurp- 
ed the  appellation, — and  where  "fell  Carybdis" 
raged,  is  now  the  haunt  of  Sicilian  fishermen. 
But  hoary  tradition  and  poetick  fancy  still  hover 
over  the  scene,  and  present  to  memory  the  de- 
lightful narratives  of  the  Odyssey, — its  won- 
derful adventures, — its  lively  portraiture  of  man- 
ners, while  the  understanding  recognises,  and 
the  heart  feels  the  moral  truth  illustrated  by  the 
hero  of  the  fiction : 

"  quid  virtus  et  quid  sapientia  possit, 


Utile  proposuit  nobis  exemplar  Ulyssem 

I  have  heard  Italians  say  that  the  beauty  of 
the  Sun  and  Moon  in  Italy  was  alone^orth  tne 
attractions  of  all  other  countries  put  together. 
Making  due  allowance  for  a  portion  of  national 
enthusiasm  in  this  remark,  it  is  far  from  being 
wholly  destitute  of  foundation.  Nature  has  not 
only  moulded  the  features  of  Italy  with  pe- 
culiar delicacy  and  grace,  but  has  taken  pains 
to  exhibit  her  favourite  work  in  the  happiest  and 
most  alluring  lights.  Italy  derives  additional 
charms  from  its  Sun,  its  Moon,  and  atmosphere. 
The  air  oi   its  mountains  is  blue,  and  the  rays 


of  the  Sun  glowing  through  a  mass  of  transpa- 
rent vapour,  gild  all  objects  with  tints  that  al- 
most realize  the  visionary  light  with  which  the 
imagination  of  Virgil  has  illuminated  the  ideal 
scenery  of  his  Elysium — 

Largior  hie  campos  aether  et  lumine  vestit, 
Purpureo. 

In  Italy,  the  Moon  is  a  pale  Sun,  giving 
to  the  face  of  this  beautiful  country  a  lan- 
guid and  voluptuous  expression.  The  ruins  of 
the  Coliseum,  and  St.  Peter's  Church,  when 
viewed  by  moonlight,  diffuse  over  the  fancy  a 
melancholy  charm  ;  and  a  similar  sensation  is 
experienced  in  contemplating  the  effect  of  the 
same  planet  upon  the  romantick  scenes  of  Tivoli, 
and  the  cascades  of  the  Ttverone,  tumbling  and 
sparkling  beneath  its  beams.  In  Sicily  and  Ca- 
labria,— the  picturesque  beauties  of  which  I 
have  selected  as  particular  illustrations  of  some 
of  these  general  remarks, — I  have  watched 
the  gradation  of  brilliant  tints,  exhibited  in 
these  countries,  by  the  morning  sky,  chang- 
ing gradually  from  the  deepest  crimson,  to 
the  brightest  saffron,  and  realizing  those  de- 
scriptions, so  familiar,  yet  so  dear  to  the 
recollection  of  every  reader  of  the  classical 
poets   of   Greece   and   Italy,      Nor   were   the 


10 

evenings  less  beautiful.  The  sun-beams  lin- 
gered upon  the  hills,  and  twilight  impercep- 
tibly faded  away,  as  if  unwilling  to  withdraw 
from  scenes  on  which  it  reposed  with  so  much 
softness  and  beauty. 

It  may  be  said,  that  the  beauties,  I  am  here 
speaking  of,  are  produced  by  accidental  causes 
and  depend  on  the  variations  of  the  atmos- 
phere. In  northern  climates,  it  is  true;  that  the 
epithet  accidental  has  been  justly  appropriated 
to  this  class  of  beauties* ;  but  in  Italy,  the 
causes,  whatever  they  are  that  produce  them, 
are  so  constant,  and  invariable  in  their  operation, 
that  an  Italian  confides  in  the  brightness  and  se- 
renity of  his  climate,  as  implicitly  as  in  the 
uniformity  of  any  of  the  physical  laws  of 
nature. 

Yet  I  would  not  be  understood  in  this  com- 
parison of  Italy  with  America,  to  give  the  prefe- 
rence to  the  former.  Independently  of  the  sacred 
attachment  which  must  indissolubly  bind  the 
heart  of  every  American  to  the  moral  and  poli- 
tical institutions  of  his  own  country,  it  possesses 

*  "  L'imagination  des  habitans  du  nord,"  says  Madame 
de  Stael,  "  tache  ainsi  de  se  composer  une  nature  d'ltalie; 
"et  pendant  les  jour  brillans  d'un  ete  rapide  l'on  parvi- 
«  ent  quelque  fois,  a  s'y  tromper."     l'allemagne. 


11 

attractions  which  cannot  be  diminished  by  the 
longest  residence  in  the  most  favoured  climes 
of  Europe.  His  moral  principles  severe  and 
pure, — his  taste  unvitiated  by  artificial  refine- 
ments,— yet  delicately  alive  to  the  nobler  and 
finer  impulses  of  the  soul, — the  young  Ame- 
rican, under  the  bright  skies  of  Italy,  and 
encompassed  by  the  dazzling  achievements  of 
art,  often  sickens  at  the  depravity  and  misery 
of  man,  and  languishes  for  his  native  home. 
His  imagination  presents  to  him,  its  untrodden 
wilds, — its  waste  fertility,  as  an  image  of  man 
unsophisticated  by  artificial  society.  He  con- 
trasts the  youthful  governments  of  America, 
which  have  grown  up  unfashioned  by  the 
hand  of  hoary-headed  prejudice,  with  those  of 
Italy,  fabricated  by  despotism  and  superstition. 
If  America  can  boast  no  stately  palaces,  no 
monuments  of  ancient  grandeur,  she  is  ex- 
empt from  the  miseries  which  follow  in  the  train 
of  arbitrary  power.  If  no  ancient  fortresses, 
no  ruined  convents,  crown  the  tops  of  its  hills, 
or  frown  upon  the  summits  of  its  mountains, 
it  is  because  the  peaceful  vales  beneath  have 
never  owned  the  sway  of  feudal  or  monastick 
tyrants.  These  are  inestimable  blessings,  and 
incomparably  of  more  value  than  that  empty 
but  fatal  splendour  for  which  the  price  of  li- 
berty   and   happiness  must  be     paid. — Some 


12 


facts  alluded  to  in  the  ensuing  pages  will, 
I  flatter  myself,  place  in  a  strong  light  the  happy 
condition  of  this  country,  compared  with  that 
of  others,  and  shew 

What  makes  the  nations  smile, 
Improves  their  soil,  and  gives  them  double  Suns  j 
And  why  they  pine  beneath  the  brightest  skies, 
In  nature's  richest  lap. 

America  affords  a  great  diversity  of  soil  and 
climate,  and  in  certain  situations  we  may  enjoy 
gales  as  pure,  and  skies  as  fair,  as  those  of  Italy.* 

*  The  following  is  an  extract  from  Mr.  Bracken  ridge's 
Views  of  Louisiana.  One  would  suppose  he  was  de- 
scribing the  climate  of  Italy.  "I  confess,  that  to  me, 
"nature  never  wore  an  aspect  so  lovely  as  on  the  lonely 
"  plains  of  the  west.  From  their  dry  and  unsheltered 
"  surface,  no  damp  and  unwholesome  vapours  rise  to  les- 
**  sen  the  elasticity  of  the  air,  or  dim  the  brilliant  blue  of 
"  the  heavens.  So  transparent  is  the  atmosphere,  that  a 
"slight  smoke  can  he  discerned  at  the  distance  of  many 
"  miles,  which  curiously  exercises  the  caution  and  saga- 
"city  of  the  fearful  savage,  ever  on  the  watch  to  destroy, 
"or  avoid  destruction.  And  then  that  sublime  immensity 
"  which  surrounds  us.  The  sea  in  motion  is  a  sublime  ob- 
ject; but  not  to  be  compared  to  the  varied  scenes  that 
"  here  present  themselves,  and  over  which  the  body  as 
H  well  as  the  imagination  is  free  to  expatiate.  The  beams 
"of  the  sun,  appeared  to  me,  to  have  less  fierceness,  or 
"  perhaps  this  is  owing  to  the  cool  breezes  which  continu- 
"  ally  fan  the  air,  bringing  upon  their  wings  the  odours  of 
"  myriads  of  Powers." 


13 

In  proportion,  too,  as  the  national  taste  becomes 
refined,  and  as  a  love  for  picturesque  embellish- 
ment increases,  the  classical  beauties  of  the  lat- 
ter will  be  gradually  transplanted  to  our  soil,  and 
its  own  grand  features,  which  no  art  can  im- 
prove, be  intermixed  with  scenes  as  soft  and 
as  delicate  as  those  of  the  Alban  Lake.  The 
saffron  tints  of  our  autumnal  skits  resemble 
those  of  the  country  I  have  been  describing ; 
and  our  moon  only  wants  ancient  ruins  to 
adorn,  to  make  her  the  same  enchantress  of  the 
night,  she  is  in  Italy. 

I  am  also  ready  to  subscribe  to  the  opinion, 
that  much  of  the  interest  which  Italy  excites, 
arises  from  adventitious  causes.  As  it  has  been 
for  many  ages  the  theatre  of  great  events,  its 
rivers,  its  mountains  and  lakes,  possess,  inde- 
pendently of  their  natural  beauty,  a  mighty  in- 
fluence over  the  imagination.  A  mind  pregnant 
with  the  stores  of  classick  literature,  derives  from 
the  contemplation  of  these  objects,  enjoyments 
which  cannot  be  imparted  to  a  person  destitute  of 
the  rudiments  of  a  liberal  education.  It  is,  there- 
fore, unfair  to  compare  with  it,  a  country,  the 
events  of  whose  history,  are  yet  too  few  and  re- 
cent to  afford  a  stimulus  to  the  imagination.  Ame- 
rica, which  yet  affords  few  materials  for  epick 


14 

and  draraatick  poetry,  sinks  by  comparison  with 
a  country,  embellished  by  the  charms  of  fiction, 
and  which  is  constantly  soliciting  the  attention, 
by  the   power   of  those   moral  associations  it 
awakes   in  the  heart.     The   impressions  pro- 
duced by  her   wild  beauties  and  unborrowed 
charms,  are  faint  by  comparison,  with  the  emo- 
tions felt  in  traversing  ground  ennobled  by  illus- 
trious events,   and  heightened  by  the  magical 
colouring    of   poetry    and    tradition.      Yet    it 
cannot  be  denied,  that  objects,  in  themselves 
incapable  of  affording  any  intellectual  pleasure, 
oftentimes    acquire   an    undue   ascendant  over 
the  mind  by  the  power  of  association ;  and  I  am 
apt  to  believe,    in  comparing  Italy  with  other 
countries,  the  enthusiasm   of  the   scholar  has 
lent  a  brilliant  colouring  to  this  region  of  classi- 
cal events,  which  has  sometimes  betrayed  him 
into  incautious  and  exaggerated  encomiums.     I 
have  often  been   astonished,   at   the  powerful 
impressions    I    have    received    from    objects, 
which,  had  I  met  them  in  any  other  country, 
I,  perhaps,  should  have  regarded  with  indiffer- 
ence.    Surely,  I  have  frequently  exclaimed  to 
myself,  these  woods,  hills  and  streams,  which 
I  now  behold  with  feelings  that  overpower  me, 
yield  in  beauty  and  sublimity,  to  our  trans-atlan- 
tick  scenery.     From  what  cause,  then,  do  tjiey 


15 

derive  their  extraordinary  influence  over  the 
imagination  ? — -From  their  connexion  with 
some  of  the  most  eventful  periods  of  time. 
Here,  at  every  step,  we  tread  on  the  ruins  of  a 
mighty  empire !  A  fractured  column, — a  dila- 
pidated wall, — a  broken  architrave, — often  pro- 
duces the  most  powerful  excitement  in  the 
imagination,  by  bringing  before  it,  personages 
and  events,  whose  history  has  left  a  deep  and 
permament  impression  on  the  sensibilities  of 
childhood.  The  dazzling  exploits  of  valour, — 
the  heroical  sacrifices  made  to  love  of  country, — 
to  conjugal  affection, — to  parental  duty, — to 
filial  piety, — the  high  and  pleasing  examples  of 
moral  and  intellectual  excellence, — heightened 
by  the  eloquence  of  the  historian,  and  the  fancy 
of  the  poet,  are  identified  with  names  that  one 
hears  daily  pronounced  by  the  common  people 
of  Italy.  "  Je  demandais  l'autre  jour,"  says 
Corinne,  "  a  une  pauvre  femme  que  je  rencon- 
"  trai,  o«  elle  demeurait  ?  A  la  roche  Tarpei- 
"  enne,  me  repondit-elle  ;  et  ce  mot,  bien  que 
"  depouille  des  idees  qui  jadis  y  etaient  attachees, 
"  agit  encore  sur  l'imagination." — On  ne  pro- 
"  nonce  pas  le  nom  du  Tibre  comme  celui  des 
"  fleuves  sans  gloire ;  e'est  un  des  plaisirs  de 
"  Rome  que  de  dire  :  Conduisez-moi  sur  les 
11  bords  du  Tibre  ;  trover  sons  le  Tibre.    II  sem- 


16 

"  ble  qu'en  pronon9anr  ces  paroles  on  evoque 
"  l'histoire  et  qu'on  ranime  les  morts."* — 

I  can  imagine  a  period  equally  remote  from 
its  origin,  when  the  American  nation,  looking 
backward  into  time,  will  feel  all  the  moral  in- 
terest, which  an  Italian  now  feels,  who  combines 
in  one  view  the  present  and  the  past,  and  whose 
imagination  associates  with  the  soil  he  treads, 
those  visions  of  glory,  which  will  forever  live  in 
the  song  of  the  poet,  and  the  narratives  of  the 
historian.  Italy,  vain  of  the  lustre  of  her  ac- 
quired fame,  timorous  and  slothful,  in  a  state 
of  inglorious  indolence,  contemplates  her  fa- 
ding splendour.  While  America,  active  and 
daring,  emulous  of  solid  greatness,  is  vigour- 
ously  employing  all  her  resources,  moral  and 
physical,  in  the  construction  of  such  a  fabrick 
of  power  and  of  social  refinement,  as  shall  sur- 
pass every  masterpiece  of  political  skill,  that 
has  hitherto  existed  ;  and  when  the  creations  of 
the  muse  shall  have  given  to  every  section  of 
our  country  the  same  charm  which  they  have 
bestowed  upon  Italy,  our  soil,  over  which  nature 
has  profusely  scattered  her  beauties,  will  pos- 
sess an  inspiring  influence,  equal,  if  not  supe- 
riour,  to  this  favoured  region,  where  poetry  has 
gathered  her  choicest  flowers. 

*  Madame  de  Stael. 


17 


The  moral  and  intellectual  character  of 
nations  is  sensibly  influenced  by  climate.  The 
difference  is  so  great,  in  point  of  genius  and 
disposition,  between  the  people  of  the  north  and 
those  of  the  south,  that  Montesquieu  does  not 
scruple  to  make  it  the  foundation  of  some  part 
of  his  reasonings  concerning  the  philosophy 
of  jurisprudence*.  According  to  the  theory 
of  this  great  civilian,  those  peculiarities  in  the 

*  "  Dans  les  pays  froids,  on  aura  peu  de  sensibilitc 
"  pour  les  plaisirs  ;  elle  sera  plus  grande  dans  les 
"  pays  temperas  ;  dans  les  pays  chauds,  elle  sera  ex- 
"  treme.  Comme  on  distingue  les  climats  paY  les  de- 
"  gres  de  latitude,  on  pourroit  les  distinguer,  pour  ainsi 
"dire,  par  les  degr^s  de  sensibilite. — Vous  trouverez 
*•  dans  les  climats  du  nord  des  peuples  qui  ont  peu  de 
"vices,  assez  de  vertus,  beaucoup  de  sincerity  <§•  de 
"  franchise.  Approchez  des  pays  du  midi,  vous  croi- 
"  rez-vous  eloigner  de  la  morale  meme  ;  des  passions 
"  plus  vives  multiplieront  les  crimes  ;  chacun  cher- 
"  chera  a  prendre  sur  les  autres  tous  les  avantages 
"  qui  peuvent  favoriser  ces  memes  passions."  Mon- 
tesquieu, de  VEsprit  des  Laix.  Liv.  xiv.  chap.  2. 
4 


18 

legal  constitutions  and  political,  condition  of  the 
States  of  Asia,  which  distinguish  them  from 
those  of  Europe,  may  be  traced  to  physical 
causes.  In  warm  countries,  where  men  are  ad- 
dicted to  criminal  excesses  of  the  passions,  the 
penal  code  ought  to  be  more  sanguinary  than 
in  those  situated  under  colder  latitudes. 

In  the  north,  the  cheerless  and  withered  as- 
pect of  nature,  and  the  long  duration  of  the 
night,  check  that  redundancy  of  life,  and  that 
pruriency  of  imagination,  engendered  by  the 
genial  climates  of  the  south,  and  which,  when 
freed  from  moral  and  legal  restraints,  are  so  apt  to 
overflow  in  wantonness  and  crime.  A  country 
whose  surface  is  impressed  with  the  melancholy 
hues  of  winter,  will  communicate  its  own  cha- 
racter of  severity  to  the  manners  as  well  as  fea- 
tures of  its  inhabitants.  Here  the  mind,  find- 
ing little  entertainment  without,  turns  its  atten- 
tion inward  upon  its  own  operations.  Such  situa- 
tions are,  of  course,  favourable  to  the  formation 
of  those  intellectual  habits,  which  are  connected 
with  depth  of  feeling,  and  philosophical  genius  ; 
while  gaiety,  fancy  and  wit,  will  generally  be 
the  portion  of  a  people,  placed  in  a  country, 
where  the  softness  of  the  climate  and  the  beau- 
ties of  nature,  compel  the  mind  at  every  mo- 


19 

mentv  to  attend  to  a  rapid  succession  of  external 
impressions. 

The  inhabitant  of  the  south,  more  lively  and 
quick  in  his  powers  of  external  perception, 
marks  with  a  rapid  and  distinguishing  eye,  the 
delicate  features  of  material  beauty  ;  whilst 
the  inhabitant  of  the  north,  discriminates  more 
nicely,  the  shades  of  moral  character  ;  fathoms 
with  more  celerity  of  thought,  the  motives  of 
the  heart,  and,  in  short,  penetrates  farther  into 
the  regions  of  the  soul.  The  peculiar  habits  of 
thought,  produced  by  climatical  causes,  are  no 
where  more  discernible  than  in  that  art,  which, 
in  all  its  higher  efforts,  reverts  to  the  first  im- 
pressions, and  first  language  of  nature.  There 
is  a  vast  difference  between  the  poetry  of  the 
north  and  the  poetry  of  the  south.  The  muse  of 
the  north  has  for  her  empire  the  regions  of  the 
mind.  She  delights  in  pourtraying  the  terrifick, 
as  well  as  the  softer  lineaments  of  the  soul.  Her 
strains  are  tender  and  sublime,  but  they  are  of- 
ten too  melancholy  and  abstract.  The  genius 
of  southern  poetry,  loves  more  the  "thoughts 
that  breathe,"  than  the  "  words  that  burn." 
She  paints  with  delicacy  the  beautiful  colouring 
and  graceful  forms  of  external  matter.  Her 
numbers  are  rich  in  harmony,   and  sparkle  with 


20 

imagery ;  but  they  rather  warm  the  imagination, 
than  impress  the  heart. 

In  rigorous  climates,  man  is  sq  often  neces- 
sitated to  defend  himself  against  their  influence, 
that  he  finds  himself  perpetually  engaged  in  a 
conflict  with  the  elements,  and  is  at  every  mo- 
ment compelled  to  feel  and  acknowledge  a  power 
greater  than  his  own.  In  consequence  of  the 
hardships  of  his  situation,  he  becomes  moral  and 
contemplative. 

How  differently  organised  is  man  in  the  south 
of  Europe.  Under  the  refulgent  skies  and  balmy 
atmosphere  of  Italy,  bare  existence  amounts  to 
positive  enjoyment,  and  life  glides  away  in  a  suc- 
cession of  voluptuous  impressions.*      The  rus- 

*"  La  beaute  du  climat,  les  charmes  de  la  contempla- 
"  tion  et  de  1'indolence  dans  ces  heureuses  contiees 
"  paraissent  y  preparer  a  des  reveries  pastorales ;  les 
rt  mceurs  memes  des  paj'sans  italiens  s'en  rapprochent 
"pins  que  celles  d'aucun  autre  peuple.  II  n'yaurait 
f'  point  eu  besoin,  pour  les  poetes,  de  recourir  a  1'Arca- 
"  die ;  les  collines  de  Sorrento  ou  le  Tasse  etait  ntf,  les 
"  rives  du  Lekete,  ou  quelque  valine  paisible  et  reculce 
"  du  royaume  de  Naples  auraient  pu  tout  aussi  bien  etre 
"  la  sc^ne  ou  il  aurait  place  ses  bergers  idealises,  sans 
"les  detacher  des  moeurs  et  des  usages  de  son  temps." 
~~8ismotidii  de  la  literature  du  Midi. 


21 

ticks  of  Calabria,  with  flowers  and  garlands  in  their 
hats,  march  to  the  labours  of  the  field,  with  a 
musician  at  their  head,  and  stop  occasionally  on 
their  way  to  dance  ;  and  I  have,  at  this  moment, 
present  to  my  imagination,  the  scenes  and  country 
festivities  which   I  have  witnessed  in  Tuscany, 
which   might  have  furnished  Milton  with   the 
smiling  images  of  his   Allegro.     A  Neapolitan 
Lazzaroni,  if  he  be  not  stimulated  by  hunger, 
when  required  to  work,  will  spurn  your  oner, 
and,   pointing  to  his  mouth  and  stomach,  will 
explain  by  his  gestures,  that  his  appetite  is  satis- 
fied, and  that  he  has  no  farther  use  for  money. 
This  effect  of  climate,   when  not  counteracted 
by   moral  or  political   institutions,  produces  a 
character  capable   of  great  virtues  and  great 
vices.    In  Naples,  the  Lazzaroni  go  half  naked, 
and  are  represented  as  entirely  destitute  of  the 
sense  of  shame.    The  existence  of  a  state  of 
savagism   in  the  midst  of  a   great  capital,  is  a 
phenomenon  that  has  attracted  the  attention  of 
every  philosophick  traveller.  In  America,  some- 
thing similar  takes  place  on  the  borders  of  the 
frontier  States.    There  we  often  see  individuals 
renouncing  the  steady,  but  unvaried  occupations 
of  regular  industry,   and  preferring  to  the  plea- 
sures of  civilized  society,  the  wandering  and  ro  - 
mantick  life  of  the  savage.     In  the  ecclesiastical 


22 

States  the  peasantry  not  unfrequently  relinquish 
the  labours  of  the  field,  and,  disguising  them- 
selves, mix  with  troops  of  Banditti ;  and  after  a 
season,  laying  aside  their  predatory  habits,  re- 
turn and  resume  the  character  and  occupations 
of  peaceful  villagers.  A  more  efficient  govern- 
ment would  remedy  this  evil  in  Romagna ;  for 
a  mode  of  life,  where  the  mind  is  kept  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  excitement  by  the  vicissitudes  of 
hope  and  fear,  is  not  unpleasant,*  and  laws  are 
necessary  to  prevent  men  from  falling  into  it. 

The  moral  and  intellectual  character,  particu- 
larly of  the  southern  Italian,  like  that  of  the  savage, 
is  passive ;  but  he  is  not  like  the  savage  roused  to 
action  by  the  impulse  only  of  the  animal  appe- 

*"  Dans  ce  pays,  ou  la  plupart  des  hommes  se  sont 
"  abandonnes  a  une  mollesse  si  eftemiriee,  quelques-uns 
"  secouant  le  joug  de  la  socij-t^,  pour  s'abandonner  sans 
"  reserve  a  leurs  passions,  ont  vecu  en  guerre  avec  l'or- 
udre  public,  et  n'ont  jamais  pu  etre  forces  a  l'obeissance 
"  par  les  gouvernemens  pusillanimes,  dont  ils  avaient 
"  secoue  le  joug.  A  la  fin  du  seizie.ne  siecle,  un  due 
"  souverain  de  Monte  Mariano,  Alfonse  Piccolomini. 
'.<  se  fit  chef  de  brigands,  et  continua  plus  de  dix  ans  cet 
"  strange  metier.  Plus  fiequemment,  les  gentilshommes 
"  du  pays  de  Naples  ont  fait  de  leurs  fiels  et  de  leurs 
"chateaux  l'asile  des  bandits,  qu'ils  employaient  pour 
"  leurs  querelles  prirfees."— -Sismondi,  de  la  Literature, 
du  Jlidi. 


23 

tites.  Living  in  a  country  where  there  remain 
so  many  splendid  vestiges  of  civilized  man,  and 
where  there  exists  such  a  variety  of  objects  to 
exercise  the  imagination,  and  furnish  a  perpe- 
tual source  of  enjoyment  to  the  most  refined 
taste,  his  passions  and  desires  have  a  range  as 
unbounded  as  the  objects  of  society.  The  arti- 
ficial restraints  of  polished  life,  operating  how- 
ever with  less  force  upon  the  Italian,  suffer  all  the 
natural  beauties  and  deformities  of  their  character 
to  appear.  The  same  stimulus  which  rouses 
them  to  crime,  often  displays  itself  in  acts  of 
generosity  and  beneficence.  In  them,  caprice 
is  the  parent  of  the  most  lovely,  as  well  as  of  the 
most  cruel  and  vindictive  passions;  and  their 
unforced  gaiety, — their  acts  of  liberality  and 
kindness,  interest  the  affections  far  more  than 
that  strained  mirth,  and  that  dull  and  measured 
hospitality,  which  is  the  effect  of  a  system  of  so- 
cial intercourse,  less  indulgent  to  the  genuine 
expression  of  the  heart. 

In  this  country  we  are  too  apt  to  confound  in 
one  general  idea,  the  Italian  and  the  French 
character.  We  inadvertently  transfer  to  the 
former,  the  heartless  gaiety  of  the  latter.  From 
want  of  opportunities  of  making  a  fair  and  just 
comparison,  we  slightly  discriminate  some  ana- 


24 


logous'traits  in  the  characters  of  the  two  nations, 
which  may  be,  and  are,  indicative  of  moral  qua- 
lities totally  different.  Both,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
are  equally  advanced  in  moral  corruption.  But 
better  hopes  may  be  entertained  of  a  people, 
whose  moral  sensibilities,  though  depraved,  are 
not  destroyed;  than  of  one,  among  whom  there 
prevails  a  system  of  society — at  war  with  inge- 
nuousness of  character, — which  has  a  tendency  to 
chill  the  glow  of  imagination,  and  to  extinguish 
that  juvenile  fire  of  the  soul,  from  which  the 
more  exalted  virtues  derive  their  birth  and 
nourishment.  The  sceptical  vivacity  of  the 
Frenchman,  deadens  his  heart  to  every  glowing 
image  of  virtue,  and  leads  him  to  reject  as  fal- 
lacious, every  conclusion  in  which  may  be  dis- 
covered the  slightest  tincture  of  sensibility  or 
enthusiasm.  The  gaiety  of  the  Italian  is  not 
incompatible  with  the  most  intense  and  profound 
emotions  of  the  heart.  It  is  not  the  product 
of  art,  but  the  boon  of  nature.  It  is  the  over- 
flowing of  a  mind,  warmed  by  generous  feel- 
ings or  excited  by  images  of  happiness. — Almost 
all  the  virtues  and  vices  of  the  French  c  haracter 
may  be  traced  to  the  principle  cf  vanity.  A 
passion  for  distinction  of  some  kind  or  other, 
pervades,  in  France,  all  classes  of  the  commu- 
nity.    Her   philosophers,   her   poets,    and   her 


25 

statesmen,   feel    and  obey  this  powerful  incen- 
tive.    Cardinal  Richelieu  envied  the  great  Cor- 
neille  his  reputation  ,•  and  was  more  desirous  of 
being  thought  a  bel  esprit,  than  the  first    politi- 
cian of  his  age.     It  was  a  petty  ambition  of  sin- 
gularity, that  led    Rousseau  to  publish  a  recapi- 
tulation of  all  the  mean  and  senseless  acts  of  his 
past  life,  and  to  unveil  to  the  world  the  moral 
diseases  of  his  nature. — This  nation,  too,  has 
been  remarkable  under  all  its  forms  of  govern- 
ment for  combining  the  most  brilliant  valour, 
with  the  most  elegant  polish,  and  even  effemi- 
nacy of  manners.     The  French  officers,  at  the 
call  of  honour,  fly  from  the  toilet  and  drawing- 
room  to  the   camp,   and  rush  from  the  silken 
softness  of  a  court  life,  amidst  the  toils  and  as- 
perities of  war.     Their  passion  for  personal  de- 
coration, for  cockades,  stars  and  ribbands,  is  pro- 
verbial ;  and  it  is   well  known  with  what  effi- 
cacy Buonaparte  employed  these  playthings,   to 
strengthen  the  foundation  of  his  power. 

If  this  vanity  is  sometimes  the  source  of  great 
and  shining  qualities,  it  is  the  parent,  too,  of  that 
refined  coquetry  which  is  so  prejudicial  to  the 
integrity  of  the  heart.  There  is  no  country  in  the 
world,  where  the  exteriour  decencies  of  life  arc 
more  systematically  taught,  than  in  France  ;  nor 

5 


26 


at  the  same  time,  is  there  any,  where  there  exists 
so  little  moral  sensibility,  or  where  the  culture 
of  the  heart  is  more  shamefully  neglected.  The 
word  aimable,  in  their  vocabulary,  signifies  no 
more  than  that  external  polish  of  manners,  which 
is  acquired  by  extensive  intercourse  with  the 
world.  That  abandon  de  sot  meme,  that  forget- 
fulness  of  one's  self,  which  is  so  often  met  with 
in  Italy,  and  which  is  so  interesting  when  uni- 
ted with  elegant  accomplishment,  is  a  stranger 
to  the  higher  circles  in  France.  Hence,  the 
Italians  have  been  accused  of  a  want  of  ,shame  ; 
a  sentiment  which  is  often  confounded  with 
false  delicacy,  which  is  the  creature  of  artificial 
society.  "  J'ai  vu  des  pretres,"  says  Dupaty, 
"  danser  avec  des  jeunes  demoiselles,  et  ce 
"  n'etoit  pas  un  scandale.  II  y  a  plus,  ce  n'etoit 
"  pas  un  ridicule  car  ici,  les  sexes,  les  dignites» 
"  les  ages,  n'ont  ni  costumes  ni  pretention,  ni 
"  biensseanee  quilesdistinguentetles  separent." 

It  has  been  justly  remarked,  that  the  source 
of  many  of  the  good  and  bad  qualities  of  the 
Italian  nation,  is  their  want  of  vanity.  They 
act  or  suffer  from  interest,  from  glory,  or  from 
love  ;  but  rarely  from  vanity.  The  passion  of 
love  among  the  French,  however  it  may  be 
painted  in  their  romances,  is  a  cold,  calculating 


27 

sentiment.  This  god,  who  is  so  omnipotent 
in  their  novels,  in  real  life  submits  to  the  laws 
ol  social  convenience.  Love  scenes  in  France, 
are  the  episodes  of  life ;  they  relieve  and  diver- 
sify, but  they  seldom  break  or  disturb  the 
unity  of  the  main  action,  or  violate  the  laws  of 
decorum  and  consistency.  In  Italy,  love  is  a 
passion  which  absorbs  every  other ;  a  devour- 
ing flame,  that  not  only  bursts  from  the  restraints 
of  decency,  but  consumes  whatever  obstructs 
its  progress.  This  moral  agent,  which,  in  other 
countries,  is  personified  under  a  form  of  infan- 
tine beauty  and  imbecility,  in  Italy,  is  a  tre- 
mendous divinity,  stained  with  human  gore, 
and  lighting  his  torch  at  the  firebrand  of  the 
furies.  I  question  whether  any  but  an  Italian 
relishes,  in  all  their  exquisiteness,  these  cele» 
brated  lines  of  Dante  : 

Quando  risposi,  comminciai :  o  lasso 
Quanti  dolci  pensier,  quanto  disio 
Mend  costoro  al  doloroso  passo  !* 

The  character  of  the  Italians  is  generally 
considered  indolent  and  effeminate.  Suscepti- 
ble,  in  a  high  degree,  of  external  impressions, 

*  The   history  of  Paulo   and  Francesca  of  Rimini. 
See  Dante's  Inferno,  Canto   V, 


28 

his  imagination  lively,  and  his  passions  warm, 
the  Italian  is  addicted  to  sensual  pleasures. 
But  these  he  can  renounce  at  the  call  of  honour 
or  ambition.  When  we  consider  the  former 
warlike  character  of  the  Italians,  their  present 
enthusiasm,  and  patient  devotion  to  the  arts, 
we  ought  not  rashly  to  adopt  the  opinion,  that 
all  their  energies  are  irretrievably  sunk  in  the 
languors  of  luxury.  There  is,  perhaps,  no 
people  in  the  world  who  are  more  easily  roused 
to  a  tone  of  lofty  and  passionate  feeling.* 
Over  a  nation,  endowed  with  a  temperament 
like  this,  moral  and  political  institutions  pos- 
sess a  mighty  influence.  In  the  task  of  reform- 
ing, or  establishing  a  government,  the  States- 
man would  here  have  a  purchase,  by  which 
he  might  produce  a  momentum,  far  greater 
than  he  would  be  able  to  accomplish,  under 
opposite  circumstances. 

*  How  forcibly  does  the  following  remark  of  Montes- 
quieu apply  to  this  people.  "  La  nature,  qui  a  donne  a 
"  ces  peuples  une  foiblesse  qui  les  rend  timides,  leur  a 
*  donne  aussi  une  imagination  si  vive,  que  tout  les  frap- 
"  pe  a  1'exces.  Cette  nieme  delicatesse  d'organe  qui 
"  leur  fait  craindre  la  mort,  sert  aussi  a  leur  faire  redou- 
**  ter  mille  choses  plufs  que  la  mort.  C'est  la  meme 
"  sensibilite  qui  leur  fait  fair  tous  les  perils.  &  les  leur 
"  fait  tous  braver." 


29 

The  character  of  the  modern  Italian  is  form-  y 
ed  by  his  government.  Unsolicited  by  the 
calls  of  honour  or  ambition,  and  encompassed 
by  pleasures  in  their  softest  and  most  seducing 
shapes,  his  passions  precipitate  themselves  on 
low  and  unworthy  objects.  His  life  passes  with- 
out dignity.  A  government,  in  which  the  mass 
of  the  people  would  be  admitted  to  some  share 
of  power,  would  elevate  the  tone  of  publick 
feeling,  and  cure  that  shameless  relaxation  of 
morals,  which,  at  present,  disgraces  their  no- 
bility. 
i 

Many  persons  think   it   a  misfortune,    that 
Buonaparte  had  not  time  to  mature  the  benefi- 
cial plans  he  intended  for  Italy.     If,   indeed, 
he   was  sincere   in  his  intentions   of  restoring 
Italy,  every  philanthropist  must  regret  his  pre- 
cipitate fall  from  power ;    or,  rather,  he  must 
lament  that  immeasurable  and  restless  ambition, 
which  rendered  his  destruction  necessary.    Had 
he  confined  the  operations  of  his  beneficence  to 
Italy  and  Spain,    he  would  there   have  found 
matter  sufficient  to  employ  the  powers  of  his 
genius.     Not   a  few,   however,  have  doubted 
the  efficacy  of  his  plans  of  regeneration,  and 
ascribe  all  the  good  he  produced,  to  the  arbi- 
trary and  overbearing  temper  of  his  govern- 


3Q 

ment.  Be  this  as  it  may,  he  has  contrived  to 
endear  to  him  the  affections  of  the  people  of 
Italy.  How  he  has  effected  this,  I  shall  en- 
deavour, hereafter,  to  explain.  For  the  pre- 
sent I  must  believe,  that,  notwithstanding  it  is 
highly  probable  that  the  changes  he  produced 
would  have  led  the  way  to  a  better  state  of 
things  hereafter,  Buonaparte  never  contemplat- 
ed such  a  scheme  of  government  for  Italy,  as 
would  have  raised  her  to  her  former  eminence. 

- 
Whoever  dwells  with  enthusiasm  on  the  civil 
and  military  institutions  of  that  people,  who 
once  subjugated  the  globe,  and  admires  those 
prodigies  of  genius  and  valour  who  presided  in 
her  councils,  and  led  her  armies  to  victory  ;  or 
contemplates  Italy  in  the  softer  light  of  dawn- 
ing science,  when  the  virtues  and  talents  of 
Lorenzo  de  Medici  diffused  a  brightness  over 
the  destinies  of  Florence,  and  revealed,  in  pros- 
pect, the  golden  days  of  Leo ;  when  the  Vene- 
tian, the  Etruscan,  and  Roman  States,  contend- 
ed with  each  other  in  freedom  and  the  liberal 
arts — must,  upon  reflection,  find  all  analogies 
drawn  from  the  past  history  of  Italy  fail,  when  ap- 
plied to  her  during  the  period  of  her  subjection 
to  France.  Buonaparte  might  have  disinterred 
the  antique  ruins  of  Rome,  and  might  have 
beautified  it  with  publick  walks  and  gardens ; 


51 

but  if  any  one  believes  that  this  would  have 
raised  her  from  her  fallen  state,  he  is  little  ac- 
quainted with  the  true  sources  of  political 
greatness,  and  with  the  moral  causes  of  the  de- 
cline of  that  renowned  capital. 

Similarity  of  customs,  of  language  and  taste, 
gives  an  uniform  aspect  to  the  whole  Italian 
peninsula.  In  a  country  where  the  intimate 
union  of  its  parts  is  favoured  by  so  many  cir- 
cumstances, no  one  can  contemplate  its  present 
weak  and  distracted  condition,  without  senti- 
ments of  regret  and  pity  ;  nor  can  we  expect 
to  see  Italy  shake  off  the  distempers,  which,  at 
present,  render  her  existence  so  cheerless  and 
languid,  until,  by  an  extraordinary  effort  of 
virtue,  or  by  some  desperate  convulsion,  she 
tears  from  the  hands  of  her  impotent  sovereigns, 
those  lacquered  sceptres,  in  the  glare  of  which 
she  sickens  and  decays. 

The  model  of  government  best  adapted  to 
Italy,  is  not  that  of  any  of  the  unqualified  re- 
publicks.  It  has  few  advocates  among  the  en- 
lightened of  this  part  of  Europe ;  although  the 
lower  order  of  Tuscans  and  Venitians  cherish 
a  sort  of  undefined  hope,  partly  nourished  by 
the  memory  of  their  former  independence  and 


32 

political  consequence,  and  partly  infused  into 
them  by  the  emissaries  of  Napoleon,  whose 
magnificent  promises  inflamed  them  with  a 
vision  of  liberty  he  never  intended  to  realize. 

The  model  of  the  antique  republick,  is  ra- 
ther to  be  admired  than  imitated.  If  the  thing 
were  possible, — to  revive  the  ancient  Roman 
form  of  government,*  would  render  the  state 
of  the  Italians  even  worse  than  it  actually  is. 
That  republick,  which  nourished  in  its  tu- 
multuous bosom  the  elements  of  conquest, 
which  derived  its  external  force  from  a  state  of 
internal  weakness  and  dissention,  is  not  calcu- 
lated for  the  present  moral  and  political  state  of 
the  world. 

A  government,  the  constituent  branches  of 
which,  should  be  distributed  according  to  the 

*  We  may  remember  that  this  was  a  favorite  idea  of 
Machiavelli. — •'  iNello  ordinare  le  republiche,  nel  man- 
"  tenere  gli  stati,  nel  governare  i  regni,  nell'  ordinare 
"latnilizia  ed  aclministrare  laguerra,  nelgiudicarci  sud- 
"  diti,  nello  accresscere  lo  imperio  non  si  trova  n£  princi- 
"pe,  ne  republica,ne  capitano,  ne  cittadinojche  agli  esem- 
"  pi  degli  anfichi  rtcorra.  II  che  mi  persuado  che  nasca 
"  dal  non  avere  vera  cognizione  delle  istorie,  per  non 
"  trarne,  leggendole,  quel  senso,  ne  gustare  di  loro  quel 
"  sapore  che  1c  hanno  in  se." — Discorsi  lib.  J. 


33 

different  interests  of  which  society  is  composed, 
would  remedy  her  domestick  evils,  and  render 
Italy  a  respectable  and  efficient  member  of  the 
great  European  commonwealth.  Her  nobility 
immersed  in  sensual  pleasure,  because  her  go- 
vernment does  not  present  to  them  objects  to 
fire  their  ambition  to  excel  in  science  or  in 
war,  would  renounce  their  low  pleasures  and 
frivolous  amusements,  to  play  a  nobler  part  in 
the  cabinet  and  the  field.  A  system  of  com- 
merce, foreign  and  domestick,  bottomed  on 
the  true  principles  of  political  economy, — a  sys- 
tem of  revenue  drawing  its  funds,  not  from  the 
necessitous  class  of  the, community  ;  but  nour- 
ished from  the  source  of  exuberance, — an  im- 
partial and  energetick  administration  of  justice, 
would  secure  to  this  country  a  state  more  dig- 
nified and  happy,  than  even  that  portrayed  in  the 
lofty  encomiums  of  the  poet. 

Salve  magna  parens  frugum  saturnia  tellus 
Magna  virum." 

The  reader  will  judge  how  far  some  of 
these  general  remarks  are  supported  by  the  de- 
tails, which  I  am  to  oifer  in  the  ensuing  pages. 


34 


A  fair  wind  carries  you  in  a  few  days  from 
the  southmost  point  of  Italy  to  Trieste,  the  rich- 
est city  in  Italian  Illyria,  and  at  present  the 
most  promising  and  flourishing  port  in  the  Em- 
perour  of  Germany's  dominions.  The  soft  at- 
mosphere and  bright  skies  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  the  verdure  and  flowers  with  which  its  Is- 
lands are  bordered  by  an  eternal  spring,  are,  in 
the  short  space  of  a  week,  exchanged  for  the 
gloom  and  severity  of  a  Scythian  landscape  ;  for 
such  commonly  during  the  winter,  is  the  aspect 
of  the  country  which  immediately  surrounds 
Trieste.  The  winds  which  brought  me  within 
view  of  this  scene,  were  not  the  gales  of  the 
south,  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  the  orange 
groves  of  Calabria  ;  but  boisterous  tramontanes, 
armed  with  frost  from  the  icy  caverns  of  the 
Alps.  Day -light,  which  discovered  to  us  the 
surface  of  the  Adriatick,  foaming  with  the  storm 
shewed  us  the  city  of  Trieste,  with  its  country- 
houses  rising  one  above  another  on  the  sides  of 
the  neighbouring  hills.  Every  object  wore  the 
melancholy  livery  of  winter.  On  our  left  rose 
the  Alps  ot  Tyrol — their  peaks  glowing  wrhh  pur- 


*      35 

pie  stains  of  light,  were  mingled  with  the  rich 
colouring  of  the  clouds,  that  rested  upon  them. 
The  snow  upon  the  hills, — the  leafless  vine- 
yards that  covered  their  sides, — the  smoke  ho- 
vering over  the  city, — its  buildings,  constructed 
with  a  view  to  comfort  more  than  to  beauty, 
conveying  an  idea  of  the  honesty,  plainness,  and 
solidity  of  the  German,  rather  than  of  the  plea- 
sures and  elegance  of  the  graceful  and  ardent 
Italian ;  whilst  they  forced  me  to  recollect  with 
regret  the  gay  scenery  and  cheerful  climate  of 
the  south,  admonished  me  likewise,  that  the 
part  of  Italy  I  now  beheld  was  not  the  fairy -land 
of  poetry  and  tradition,  which  imagination  claims 
for  her  domain. 

Speaking  a  few  days  after  my  arrival,  to  an 
Italian,  of  the  difficult  navigation  of  the  Adri- 
atick,  I  mentioned  the  obstinate  gales  we  had  re- 
cently encountered.  He  smiled  and  said,  nnn  era 
niente  ctiuna  Borina,  the  diminutive  of  Bora,* 
which  signifies  a  wind  far  more  terrible  than 
any  which  I  had  felt.  Indeed  the  aspect  of  this 
country  is  that  of  a  region  pregnant  with  storms. 
The  gulph  is  enclosed  by  the  Julien  and 
Tyrol  i an  Alps,    upon  whose  vast  magazines  of 

*Bora    is  used  for  Borea,    by    Caro,  in  his  transla 
t.ion  of  the  Eneid. 


36 

snow,   piled  up  to  the  clouds,  it  is  impossible 
even  to  look  without  being  chilled.     Around 
the  city  rises  an  amphitheatre  of  huge  hills,  on 
whose  lofty  summits  no  sign  of  vegetation  ap- 
pears.    In  these  elevated   situations  the  clouds 
collect,  and  driving  before  them  sleet  and  rain, 
wither  every   plant  they  meet  in  their  progress 
over  the  vallies.     The  Bora  is  the  rudest  of  all 
the    Alpine   blasts,    that  infest   the    Adriatick. 
Collecting  in  its  passage  over  regions  of  snow 
their  icy  particles,  it  sweeps  down  upon  Trieste 
with  the  fury  of  a    levanter.     It  does  not  blow 
uniformly   and   steadily,    but   in  puffs,  which 
shake  to   their  foundations  the  most  solid  edi- 
fices.    A  wind  of  this  description  would  be  at 
tended    with   serious   consequences  to  the  ship- 
ping and  harbour,  if  it  were  accompanied    with 
a  corresponding  swell  and  agitation  of  the  sea  ; 
but  as  it  seldom  reaches  to  a  great  distance  from 
the  land,  its  effect  upon  the  Adriatick  is  incon- 
siderable.    Ships    are,   however,  in  danger  of 
being    driven   by  it   from  their    stations,    and 
carried    to    sea    with    inconceivable    velocity.' 
To    prevent   such  accidents,   the  late    French 
government  caused  a  number  of  vast  piers  to  be 
sunk  in  the  harbour,  for   the    convenience   of 
mooring   vessels,   which   without  this  security, 
would  scarce  be  able  to  resist  the   violence  of 
the  Bora. 


37 

Sometimes  too,  the  Siroc,  collecting  all  its 
fury,  and  darkening  the  whole  southern  hemis- 
phere, rolls  mountain -billows  into  the  harbour 
of  Trieste.  These  storms,  although  they  are  of 
shorter  duration  than  the  Bora,  are  attended 
with  far  more  danger,  and  present  a  scene  which 
when  its  terrours  are  aggravated  by  midnight, 
rivals  in  awfulness  and  sublimity  the  descrip- 
tions of  poetick  fancy.  The  bursting  of  the 
waves  into  the  very  streets  of  the  city — the  in- 
undation of  its  moles  and  quays,  sweeping 
into  the  sea  the  stores  and  merchandise  with 
which  they  are  generally  laden — the  shrill  sound 
of  the  wind  among  the  rigging  of  the  vessels — 
the  cries  of  the  mariners — ships  driven  from 
their  anchorage  and  stranded  on  the  beach,  or 
dashed  violently  one  against  another,  are  some 
of  the  principal  incidents  of  the  spectacle,  which 
the  harbour  of  Trieste  presents,  when  assailed 
by  the  fury  of  the  south  wind. 

Dux  inquieti  turbidus  Adriae, 


Quo  non  arbiter, 

Major  tollere  seu  ponere  vult  freta. 

But  in   summer,   when  the  Adriatick  is  re- 
signed to  the  dominion  of  the  zephyrs,    its  tran- 


38 

quil  surface  throws  an  air  of  softness  and  re- 
pose over  the  landscapes  on  its  shores,  which 
then  become  the  resort  of  gaiety  and  pleasure. 
The  promenade  called  St.  Andrea,  made  by 
the  French  government,  extends  from  the  city 
along  the  edge  of  a  breezy  precipice.  Here  par- 
ties assemble  to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  pros- 
pect and  the  freshness  from  the  water.  Greeks 
and  Albanians  are  seen  carelessly  lying  on  the 
very  brink  of  the  precipice,  or  reclining  on  beds 
of  flowers  watching  some  arrival  from  their  na- 
tive country,  or  indulging  the  reveries  of  fancy 
in  contemplating  the  blue  expanse  before  them, 
spotted  with  fishing  boats,  and  ruffled  only  by 
the  gentlest  winds. 

All  vessels  arriving  at  the  port  of  Trieste, 
are  subject  to  its  quarantine  laws.  These  laws, 
which  are  rigorously  enforced  against  all  ves- 
sels from  the  Levant,  are  sometimes  relaxed  in 
favour  of  Americans  and  Europeans  ;  so  that 
while  some  are  doomed  to  a  probation  of  forty 
days,  our  term  of  confinement  did  not  exceed 
seven.  But  the  strong  desire  of  liberty  every 
one  feels,  who  has  been  long  confined  to  the  deck 
of  a  vessel,  made  it  appear  to  us  much  longer. 
The  strange  appearance  too  of  our  fellow-pri- 


39 

soners,  Greeks,  Jews,  Turks,  and  Armenians. 
To  me,  who  love  to  contemplate  human  na- 
ture, as  it  is  variously  fashioned  by  custom  and 
political  institutions,  the  national  manners  and 
costumes  of  these  people,  afforded  matter  for 
amusing  remark. 

I  was  regularly  awakened  every  morning  by 
the  matin  song  of  a  Greek,  who  lodged  op- 
posite to  my  apartment,  and  who  chaunted  in 
a  voice  disagreeably  nasal  and  monotonous,  the 
popular  airs  and  ballads  of  his  native  country. 
I  was  incensed  to  hear  the  language  of  Sappho 
and  Anacreon  so  disgraced,  and  listened  with 
impatience  to  the  perversion  of  those  harmo- 
nious sounds,  which 

warbled  to  the  string, 

Drew  iron  teirs  down  Pluto's  cheek, 
And  made  hell  grant  what  love  did  seek. 

But  he  was  the  gayest  inhabitant  of  a  place, 
where  every  countenance  was  shaded  by  the 
gloom  of  captivity,  and  seemed  to  languish 
with  that  "  sickness  of  the  heart  which  arises 
from  hope  deferred."  If  the  demon  of  ennui 
haunts  the  captive,  within  the  bovvers  of  plea- 
sure, well  may  he  find  victims  within  the  walls 


40 

of  a  gloomy  Lazaretto,  To  behold  from  a 
state  of  confinement  the  world  at  a  distance, 
and  be  debarred  the  privilege  of  entering  its 
cheerful  and  busy  scenes,  is  a  cruel  species  of 
tantalism,  where  desire  continually  mocked  by 
a  vain  shadow  of  enjoyment,  languishes  in 
view  of  its  object. 

My  sensations,  after  passing  the  gate  of  the 
Lazaretto,  superadded  a  charm  to  every  thing 
interesting  I  saw ;  and  the  most  indifferent  objects 
I  encountered  appeared  to  possess  the  grace 
of  novelty.  The  multitude  of  new  faces 
a  traveller  sees,  when  he  first  arrives  among 
a  strange  people,  with  whom  he  has  no  re- 
lation, except  that  of  a  common  nature,  are 
apt  to  depress  him.  A  populous  city  is  a 
dreary  solitude  to  him  who  finds  in  it  no  one 
to  share  his  pleasures  and  solicitudes.  But 
when  the  heart  is  gratified  and  happy,  the  kin- 
dred features  of  humanity,  in  every  human  be- 
ing about  us,  spontaneously  unveil  themselves. 
There  is  in  all  countries  a  language  spoken, 
"  to  which  every  heart  is  an  echo  ;"  and  to  ob- 
serve in  different  nations  the  workings  of  the 
same  passions  and  affections,  manifesting  them- 
selves from  behind  the  disguises  and  artifi- 
cial modifications  of  society,    seldom  fails  to 


41 

inspire  those  feelings  of  comprehensive  benevo- 
lence, which  teach  us  to  regard  as  one  great 
family,  all  moral  and  intelligent  natures. 

The  people  of  Trieste,  were  just  beginning 
to  engage  in  the  pleasures  and  diversions  of  the 
carnival.     As  the  opera  forms  no  inconsidera- 
ble part  of  these  amusements,  I  anticipated  the 
delight  I  should  enjoy  in  the  evening,  in  wit- 
nessing the  performance  of  Italian  artists,   from 
whose  reputation  I   was  led  to  form  high  ex- 
pectations.    Upon  entering  the  theatre,  I  did 
not  find  its  effect  upon  the  spirits  so  enlivening, 
as  that  of  the  French  or  of  the  English  opera, 
where  the  saloon,  lighted  up  by  a  multitude  of 
lustres,   and  filled  with   beautiful   women,  at- 
tired in  all  the  glitter  of  dress,  makes  the  most 
delightful  part  of  the  spectacle.     I  did  not  see 
a  single  lady  in  full  dress, — nor  is  this  to  be 
wondered  at,  in  a  theatre  illuminated  in  a  man- 
ner better  calculated  for  scenick  effect,   than  for 
the  display  of  beauty  and  fashion.     As  a  por- 
tion of  the  population  of  Trieste,  consists  of  emi- 
grants from    Turkey   and  the   Greek  Islands, 
I  looked    round    in    expectation  of  beholding 
some  of  the  matchless  beauties  of  Circassia  and 
Greece,  and   hoped  to  discover,    beneath   the 
shade  of  turbans,  those  unrivalled  features  and 
7 


42 

Complexions,  which  all  travellers  allow  the  wo- 
men of  the  east.  But  if  any  of  these  "  earth 
treading  stars"  were  present,  their  rays  were 
not  sufficiently  luminous,  to  dispel  the  sur- 
rounding obscurity.  I  saw  no  Fatimas,  no  Leil- 
las,  or  Gulnares.  Trieste,  though  an  exten- 
sive mart  for  all  the  other  rich  products  of  the 
Levant,  exhibited  on  this  occasion,  no  specimens 
of  beauty,  from  the  vales  of  Cashmere,  or  the 
banks  of  the  Illissus. 

The  sounds  of  the  orchestra  no  sooner  struck 
my  ears,  than  I  recognized  the  exquisite  execu- 
tion of  the  German  artists.  The  opera,  entitled 
Gli  pretendenti  delusi,  opened  with  a  charm- 
ing duet  between  the  Prima  donna,  and  the  Te- 
nore.  The  Primo  Buffo,  was  the  first  in  Italy, 
and  sang  the  arias  with  inimitable  grace,  and  hu- 
mour. In  Italy,  it  is  the  fashion  to  be  inatten- 
tive to  the  recitative  parts  of  the  opera,  but 
when  the  orchestra  pauses,  and  the  actor  comes 
forward  to  the  front  of  the  stage,  and  announces 
to  the  audience  by  his  looks,  that  he  is  going  to 
sing  the  aria,  a  general  silence  immediately  fol- 
lows. A  similar  pause  in  conversation  takes 
place  at  the  commencement  of  the  ballet,  which, 
as  may  readily  be  conceived,   has  powerful  at- 


A3 


tractions  for  a  people,  upon  whohi  the  spells  of 
beauty,  and  the  enchanting  power  of  graceful 
motion,  act  with  an  irresistible  fascination. 

The  subject  of  the  ballet,  was  taken  from  the 
story  of  Jason  and    Medea.      The  addition  of 
any  novel  attractions,  to  a  tale,    familiar  to  every 
school-boy,  would,  at  first,  seem  to  involve  dif- 
ficulties almost  invincible.     But  the  resources 
of  art  are  unlimited,  and  the  history  of  the  chief 
of  the  Argonauts  and  his  spouse,  although  a 
hacknied  tale,   and  although  degraded  from  the 
dignity  of  the  epopee  and  the  drama  to  a  panto- 
mine,  appeared  with  a  renovated  lustre  that  in- 
stantaneously  seized  upon  the  attention  of  the 
spectator.     The  poetry  of  Euripides  does  not 
operate  upon  the  fancy  and  the  heart,   with  a 
sway   more   irresistible,    than    that  succession 
of  magical  illusions,   which  compose  this   bal- 
let, and  by  which  the  artist  reaches  through  the 
senses  the  finer  organs  and   nobler  passions   of 
the  soul.     Terpsichore,  on  this  occasion,  show- 
ed  herself  the   rival  of  Melpomene,    or  rather 
the  latter,    abdicating   her    dignity,    and    bor- 
rowing the   enchanting    graces   of   her    sister 
muse,    appeared  with  no  less  additional  loveli- 
ness than  Juno,  when  she  shone  with  all  those 


ineffable  attractions  conferred  upon  her  person, 
by  the  possession  of  the  zone  of  Venus.    Looks 
often  dart  the  contagious  fire  of  poetry,  more 
than  the  most  forcible  and  brilliant  composition  of 
words  ;  and  the  musick  which  unites  its  ravish- 
ing spells,    to  the  irresistible  enchantments  of 
grace,    and  heightens  the    expression  of  elo- 
quent and  living    attitudes,   is  a    natural   lan- 
guage, in  its  effect  analogous  to  those  passion- 
ate and  sentimental  tones  in  the  human  voice, 
which   constitute    the   charm  of   declamation. 
The  impassioned  character  of  Medea  was  beau- 
tifully portrayed ;    the  ballerina  who   personat- 
ed it,  gave  to  it  all  the  effect  of  which  it  was 
susceptible. — The  discovery  of  her   husband's 
passion  for  the  daughter  of   Creon,    and  its  ef- 
fect upon  her   mind,  were   happily   conceived 
and  forcibly  expressed  by  this  female  artist; 
while   the   musick   of    the    orchestra    painted 
to  the  ear,  the  furious  agitation  of  the   ago- 
nized and  distracted  mind  of  Medea. 

Thy  numbers  jealousy  to  naught  were  fixed, 
Sad  proof  of  thy  distressful  state, 
Of  differing  themes  the  veering  strain  was  mixed, 
And  now  it  courted  love,  now  ravins  called  on  hate. 


45 

The  struggles  of  maternal  tenderness  in  the  bo- 
som  of  Medea,  before  she  executes  her  horrid 
purpose,  and  the  grief  of  Jason  for  the  loss  of 
his    murdered     children,    shone    in     colours 
truly  dramatick,  and  might  illicit  tears.     The 
sorceress's  visit  to  the  infernal  regions,  her  coun- 
tenance pale  with  jealousy,  yet  meditating  re- 
venge, the  terrour  which  seemed  to  shake   her 
whole  frame  at  the  moment  she  is  to  invoke  the 
powers  of    hell,  to  assist  her  in  the  execution  of 
her  diabolical  scheme  of  vengeance, — -the  dances 
of  the  furies  around  her,  their  torches  illuminating 
the  scene  with  a  terrifick  glare,  and  to  crown  the 
whole,  Medea  borne  aloft  through  the  air  in  her 
car,  drawn  by  fiery  dragons,  evinced  in  the  Ita- 
lian artists,  a  superiority  of  skill  in  the  machines 
and  decorations  of  the  stage,  which  made  me  re- 
collect the  French  theatre,  where  I  have  some- 
times in  the  like  manner  suffered  my  spirits  to 
be  borne  along  by  a  succession  of  passive  enjoy- 
ments, and  where  encompassed  by  the  illusions 
of  the  ballet,  or    enchanted  by  the  syren  song 
of  the   opera,  I  have  feasted  to  satiety   at  that 
banquet,  where  reason  resigns  her  authority  and 
leaves  the  fancy  to   indulge  in  all  the  luxury  of 
visionary  delight. 

The  art  of  pantomine  is  carried  to  a  high  de- 
gree of  excellence,  among  a  people   of  a  lively 


/ 


46 

and  ardent  imagination.  It  is  so  natural  for 
such  a  people,  to  employ  the  language  of  ges- 
ture to  express  their  feelings  ;  and  a  mode  of 
communication  to  which  men  at  first  were  led, 
by  a  necessity  imposed  upon  them  by  the  limi- 
ted stores  of  language,  in  the  earlier  stages 
of  its  formation,  has  been  continued  from  choice, 
and  cultivated  as  an  embellishment. 

The  highest  degree  of  perfection  attainable 
in  this  art,  may  be  looked  for  among  the  Ita- 
lians, who  appear  to  possess  beyond  any  other 
people,  that  muscular  flexibility  of  countenance } 
by  means  of  which  it  suddenly  and  sponta- 
neously reflects  the  emotions  of  the  heart.  The 
causes  which  render  the  human  countenance  so 
sensitive,  and  delicate  an  organ  of  intellectual 
communication,  and  which  make  it  so  faithful  a 
mirrourofwhat  passes  within  the  mind,  are  not 
more  to  be  ascribed  to  a  particular  physical  con- 
formation, than  to  the  prevalence  of  taste  and 
mental  elegance,  arising  out  of  a  particular  state 
of  society. 

Independent  of  that  forcible  and  impassioned 
style  of  gesture,  by  which  nature  has  charac- 
terised the  Italian  nation,  the  classick  forms  of 
antiquity,  which  they  have  continually  before 
their     eyes,     naturally   fashion     them     to     a 


47 

standard  of  grace  ;  and,  indeed,  omitting  the 
consideration  of  a  cultivated  taste,  the  con- 
tinual presence  of  these  models  of  the  beau  ideal 
would  lead  them  insensibly  to  acquire  a  habit 
of  expressing  their  thoughts  and  sentiments  in 
the  most  poetical  attitudes.  Thus  the  French 
and  Italian  ballets,  frequently  recal  to  the  fan- 
cy, the  fine  forms  of  painting  and  statuary, 
which  acquire  additional  interest,  when  heigh- 
tened by  every  varying  expression,  and  the  fu- 
gitive and  evanescent  charms  of  the  living  mo- 
del. Even  the  ideal  fictions  of  the  muse,  when 
clothed  with  shape  and  colour,  and  exhibited 
in  a  visible  form  to  the  spectator,  produce  a 
more  pleasing  effect,  than  when  presented  di- 
rectly to  the  mind,  without  the  intervention  of 
the  senses  :  the  creative  power  of  the  imagi- 
nation being  slightly,  if  at  all  exerted,  while  it 
receives  passively  its  impressions,  through  the 
organs  of  external  perception. 

This  class  cf  pleasures,  however,  when  in* 
dulged  to  excess,  has  a  tendency  to  render  the 
taste  effeminate  and  sickly,  by  weakening  those 
mental  energies  upon  which  its  vigour  and 
soundness  depend.  Hence  that  fondness  for  pue- 
rile novelties,  and  meretricious  ornaments,  and 
that  insensibility  to  the   charms  of  unadorned 


48 

nature,  and  often  to  the  real  and  indisputable 
beauties  of  art,  which  commonly  distinguish 
the  votary  of  fashionable  pleasure,  a  charac- 
ter I  will  venture  to  assert,  as  incapable  of 
estimating  justly  the  real  excellencies  of  moral 
character,  as  of  deriving  enjoyment  from  the 
productions  of  imagination. 

The  pleasures  of  the  theatre,  are  heightened 
or  diminished,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
feelings  and  ideas  which  have  previously  en- 
gaged the  attention.  Where  the  mental  ener- 
gies have  been  impaired  by  an  uninterrupted 
succession  of  passive  impressions,  which  by 
powerfully  and  continually  exciting  it  to  fresh 
enjoyment,  have  left  it  exhausted  of  all  sensi- 
bility to  pleasure,  a  potent  stimulus  is  required 
to  awaken  its  perceptions,  and  to  rouse  to  the 
slightest  exertion  an  imagination  palsied  by  the 
surfeit  of  perpetual  delight.  This,  however,  on 
the  present  occasion  at  least,  was  not  my  case.  I 
came  prepared  by  a  previous  abstinence  to  the 
banquet,  with  an  appetite  that  required  no  unna- 
tural stimulus  to  rouse  it  to  a  sense  of  plea- 
sure. My  attention  was  irresistibly  seized  by 
the  objects  about  me. — The  company — the  de- 
corations of  the  theatre— the  dances— all  conspir- 
ed to  exhilirate  by  their  novelty,  one  whose  eyes 


49 


were  weary  with  contemplating  the  monotonous 
prospect  of  the  ocean,  and  whose  ears  had  been 
long  fatigued  with  the  musick  of  the  winds,  and 
the  voice  of  the  billows. 

Some  further  observations,  which  I  propose 
making,  on  the  Italian  theatre  in  general,  I 
shall  reserve  for  a  future  opportunity,  and  shall 
at  present  dismiss  the  subject,  for  one  that 
seems   more  immediately  to  solicit  attention. 

Notwithstanding  the  frowns  of  the  winter, 
rendered  still  more  severe  by  the  inhospitable 
situation  of  Trieste,  which  exposes  ic  to  the 
buffets  of  every  Alpine  wind,  and  to  all  the 
storms  that  vex  the  Adriatick,  this  city  exhi- 
bited all  the  gaiety  of  an  Italian  carnival.  The 
spirit  of  traffick  which  is  so  inimical  to  pleasure, 
and  which  forms  a  leading  feature  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  middle  class  of  Triestins,  was  over- 
powered and  suspended  by  the  return  of  that  sea- 
son, which  brings  with  it  an  oblivion  on  all 
care  and  business.  I  could  not  but  observe 
many,  whose  dress  bespoke  the  last  degree  of 
wretchedness,  who,  in  joining  in  the  sports  of 
the  carnival,  seemed  to  forget  the  hardships  of 
their  condition.  Some  carried  in  their  hands  a 
small  earthen  pot  with  a  few  coals  in  it,  over 
8 


50 


which  they  warmed  their  fingers.  Others,  with 
their  hands  in  their  bosoms,  stood  listening  to  a 
poor  German  or  Swiss  Orpheus,  who  charmed 
them  with  his  guitar,  on  which  he  played  a  lively 
waltz,  or  sang  a  wild  Helvetian  hunting  song, 
in  which  fancy  heard  the  echoes  of  the   Alps. 

In  the  evening,  the  windows  of  the  shop 
in  the  Corso,  afforded  a  curious  display  of  masks 
and  dominos,  mixed  with  a  profusion  of  splen- 
did dresses, — the  antiquated  trumpery  of  courts 
and  the  discarded  paraphernalias  of  theatres. 
Here,  once  a  year  at  least,  the  meanest  artizan 
might  strut  the  monarch,  and  "dressed  in  robes 
of  brief  authority,  play  fantastick  tricks,"  and 
the  kitchen-maid,  like  Cinderella,  without  the 
intervention  of  a  fairy,  be  clothed  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye,  in  the  glittering  apparel  of 
a  princess.  Here  might  be  seen  a  sportive 
Italian,  attiring  herself  in  the  costume  of  a 
Tyrolian  girl, — a  Craniohn  peasant,  disguising 
his  Herculean  frame,  in  robes  designed  for  a  sof- 
ter shape  and  daintier  limbs, —  a  heavy  German 
mimicking  with  his  thick  accents,  and  clumsy 
gestures,  the  ready  pleasantries  and  comick 
feats  of  a  Venetian  harlequin, — and  a  jack  tar 
hiring  for     the    night,     the    powdered     wig 


51 


embroidered  coat,  spangled  vest,  and  chapeau 
de  bras  of  a  French  marquis. 

There  were  some  masks  that  appeared  to  be 
copies,  of  that  countenance  of  ideal  beauty, 
exhibited  in  the  works  of  the  Greek  statuaries  ; 
others,  on  the  contrary,  represented  semi-hu- 
man faces,  which  recalled  those  monsters,  with 
which  the  creative  and  playful  imagination  of 
Ariosto,  has  peopled  the  environs  of  the  beau- 
tiful Alcina's  residence. 

Non  fu  veduta  mai  piu  strana  torma 
Piu  monstruosi  volti  in  peggio  fatti 
Alcun  dat  collo  in  giu  d'uomini  han  forma 
Cal  viso  altri  di  scimie,  altri  di  gatti. 

The  hour  of  assembling  is  midnight ;  and  the 
opera  house  the  temple  of  those  impure  rites 
and  nocturnal  mysteries,  which  "  the  bitter 
day  would  quake  to  look  on."  The  mask 
is  no  sooner  put  on,  than  the  veil  of  mo- 
desty is  laid  aside.  Women  and  men  abandon- 
ing themselves  to  the  intoxication  of  pleasure, 
appear  to  be  ready  to  engage  in  unexampled 
feats  of  libertinism.  An  impure  lire  that  is  con- 
tagious, appears  to  infect  the  very  atmosphere  of 
the  room,  and  to  cheat  the  senses  with  illusions. 
The  endearing  expressions  of  cam  and  bella  mas- 
cherina,  pronounced  in  a  soft  falsetto  note,  vibrate 
sweetly  upon  the  ear.      The  understanding  is 


52 


subjugated  by  the  power  of  musick,  and  the 
voluptuous  dances  of  the  waltz  and  the  manfrino, 
exalt  the  spirits  to  that  giddy  height,  which  ac- 
complishes the  destruction  of  many  a  fair  Be- 
linda, although  encompassed  with  all  her  aerial 
guards. 

The  rules  of  refined  gallantry,  are  dispensed 
within  an  assembly  where  all  are  in  disguise  and 
supposed  to  be  unknown ;  the  dress  and  per- 
son of  a  lady  in  mask,  are,  it  is  true,  inviola- 
ble, but  there  is  no  law  of  courtesy  which  ex- 
empts her  from  the  insolence  of  rude  and  licen- 
tious language.  As  at  court,  the  hoop  petti- 
coat puts  the  finely  shaped  maid  of  honour 
upon  the  same  foundation  with  a  hobbling 
dutchess,  so  at  these  vigils  of  fashion,  the 
mask  levels  all  the  distinctions  of  face.  It 
is  sometimes  the  lot  of  grey  hairs  and  wrin- 
kles, to  receive  the  passionate  vows,  due  to 
youth  and  loveliness.  Many  a  veteran  masker, 
skilled  in  the  frauds  by  which  young  hearts  are 
deceived,  feels  her  withered  cheek  rekindled 
with  blushes,  by  the  amorous  impatience  of  her 
deluded  lover.  Sometimes  the  mask  is  suf- 
fered to  fall,  and  all  her  imaginary  attractions 
vanish  with  the  talisman  whieh  gave  them  an 
existence  ;  while  the  sorceress  herself  derives 


53 


a  species  of  diabolical  gratification  from   the 
pain  of  her  disappointed  vvoer,  when  he  finds, 

....    contra  ogni  sua  stima,  in  vece 

Delia  bella 

Donna  si  laida  che  la  terra  tutta, 

Ne  la  piu  vecchia  avea,  ne  la  piu  brutta. 

I  almost  imagined  the  hall  in  which  I  stood 
to  be  enchanted,  and  that  around  me  Comus 
or  Circe  were  dealing  their  wizzard  spells  ;  and 
so  ready  is  the  mind  to  assist  these  illusions,  by 
conjuring  up  all  that  memory  and  fancy  can 
supply,  to  lend  them  additional  force,  that  if 
the  judgment  were  not  vigilant  to  repress  them, 
like  a  dream,  they  would  overpower  the  senses, 
and  produce  a  temporary  belief  in  the  wildest 
incongruities  of  fiction.  How  natural  is  it  for  a 
person,  dazzled  by  the  novelty  of  such  scenes, 
to  retire  from  them  repeating  the  words  of 
Prospero, 

.   .    .    their  revels  now  are  ended  ;  these  the  actors, 

»     .     were  all  spirits,  and 

Are  melted  into  air,  into  thin  air  : 

A  few  days  before  the  carnival  ceases,  its 
pleasures  begin  to  reach  their  acme,  and  then 
the  concourse  of  masks  and  spectators  becomes 
so  great,  that  all  the  principal  streets  and  pub- 


54. 


lick  places  are  crowded ;  carriages  filled  with 
ladies  attired  in  elegant  masquerade  dresses, 
pass  in  procession  through  the  principal  streets, 
and  these  fair  masks  provoke  the  attention  of 
the  by-standers,  by  hurling  into  their  faces 
handfuls  of  sugar  plumbs.  Among  these  is 
seen  many  a  ludicrous  figure  on  foot,  or  riding 
a  donky,  or  driving  a  cabriolet.  The  evening 
preceding  lent,  all  assemble  at  an  early  hour  at 
the  vegtione,  and  the  carnival  now  at  its  close, 
collects  together  the  whole  population  of  the 
place,  and  vanishes  in  all  its  splendour.  Mid- 
night is  no  sooner  announced,  than  the  hall  is 
emptied  and  the  lights  extinguished.  The 
bacchanals  of  pleasure  retire  from  the  scene, 
wearied  and  exhausted  with  their  long  cam- 
paign of  gaiety,  and  the  first  morning  of  the 
ensuing  lent,  lifts  its  pale  ray  upon  many  a  pa- 
ler countenance,  doomed  to  expiate  the  sins  of 
the  carnival  by  all  the  rigour  of  abstinence  and 
prayer. 

The  influence  of  masquerade's  upon  the  mo- 
ral and  social  habits  of  a  people,  is  of  sufficient 
importance  to  point  it  out,  as  an  object  of  so- 
licitude,  to  every  government,  but  more  espe- 
cially to  those  with  whose  political  and  moral 
institutions,  the  principles  of  liberty  are  inter- 
woven.    Even  under  monarchies,    where,  per- 


55 

- 

haps,  the  practice  cannot  be  eradicated,  its  nox- 
ious luxuriance  may,  and  ought  to  be  repress- 
ed. It  would  be  entirely  subversive  of  the  mo- 
rals of  a  republick,  and  if  introduced  into 
America,  would  infallibly  banish  those  virtues 
which  in  point  of  manly  morals  and  social  com- 
forts, justly  entitle  this  country  to  the  fore- 
most rank  among  nations. 

The  picture  which  I  have  endeavoured  to 
draw  of  an  Italian  masquerade,  may  serve  as 
an  illustration  of  the  truth  of  this  remark. 
From  observing  its  effect  upon  individuals,  we 
may  form  a  just  conception  of  its  influence 
on  society  in  general.  The  profligate  manners 
of  the  higher  and  lower  orders  in  the  great 
cities  of  Italy,  no  doubt  spring  from  this 
source,  as  well  as  from  its  voluptuous  climate, 
and  the  want  objects  to  call  into  activity  the  mo- 
ral and  intellectual  energies  of  the  nation.  The 
brilliant  carnival  of  Venice  accelerated  the  fall 
of  that  republick.  The  Venetian  nobility, 
whose  policy  it  was  to  debase  the  minds  of  the 
people,  by  offering  to  their  love  of  pleasure  its 
appropriate  nourishment,  withdrew  their  pas- 
sions from  higher  objects,  and  unfitted  them 
for  exercising  a  control  over  the  higher  classes, 
as  well  as  for  any  effort  to  unveil  that  secret 


56 


policy,  by  which  the  pretensions  of  a  proud 
aristocracy  were  upheld.  This  unhappy  sys- 
tem of  government  was,  in  the  end,  as  fatal  to 
the  interests  of  the  nobility,  as  to  those  of  the 
people.  While  that  opulence  has  disappeared 
which  formerly  gave  an  unrivalled  splendour  to 
her  carnival,  Venice  still  retains  all  those  low 
and  sordid  vices,  to  the  nourishment  and  propa- 
gation of  which,  this  publick  amusement  ma- 
terially contributed. 

The  suppression  of  unlawful  pleasures,  and 
the  regulation  of  publick  morals,  enters  as  lit- 
tle into  the  policy  of  Austria,  as  it  did  into  the 
government  of  the  Venetian  nobles.  But  plea- 
sure is  not  so  efficient  an  engine  of  state  ambi- 
tion at  Vienna,  as  it  was  at  Venice. 

No  effort  of  conciliatory  policy  on  the  part 
of  Austria  yet,  has  effaced  in  the  minds  of  the 
Triestins,  the  recollections  of  a  state  imme- 
diately preceding  the  present,  which  if  not  more 
prosperous,  they  describe  as  considerably  hap- 
pier. Independent  of  those  powerful  antipathies 
to  the  house  of  Austria,  so  long  cherished  by 
Italy,  there  are  secret  laws  of  attraction  by 
which  the  Italian  character  is  more  easily  amal- 
gamated with  that  of  the  French,  than  it  ever 


57 

can  be  with  that  of  the  Germans.  As  this  is  a 
subject  which  appears  to  me  to  be  connected 
with  some  preceding  remarks  of  a  general  na- 
ture, on  the  actual  state  of  the  publick  mind 
in  Italy,  the  reader  here  will  indulge  me  in 
the  liberty  of  a  few  additional  comments. 

During  the  term  of  general  Bertrand's  admi- 
nistration, the  French  yoke  sat  lightly  on  the 
necks  of  the  Triestins,  and  the  introduction 
of  the  code  Napoleon — the  suppression  of 
some  abuses  and  antiquated  formalities,  in  the 
administration  of  justice — the  publick  works 
of  ornament  and  utility  begun  and  finished 
under  his  direction,  compensated  them  for  the 
loss  of  their  commerce,  and  the  early  spolia- 
tions  of  the  French  government.*     Its  heads 

*The  remoteness  of  the  situation  of  Trieste,  for  some 
time  exempted  it  from  the  operation  of  Buonaparte's 
anti-commercial  decrees,  during  which  the  south  of  Ger- 
many, Switzerland  and  Italy,  were  supplied  through  this 
port  with  British  commodities  But  its  flourishing  trade 
could  not  long  escape  the  ever  watchful  eyes  of  the  French 
government,  and  troops  of  (douaniers.)  custom-house 
officers  were  stationed  on  the  shores  of  the  Adriatick, 
to  enforce  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  French  empire. 
"When  I  was  in  France  in  1810,  Las  Cases^  whu  accom- 
panied Buonaparte  to  St.  Helena,  and  who  was  for- 
merly one  of  the  blindest  worshippers  of  this  idol  of  the 
9 


58 

of  departments  liberally  expended  their  sa- 
laries, and  the  circulation  of  their  revenues, 
created  a  deceitful  appearence  of  prosperity, 
into  the  true  sources  of  which  the  mass  of 
the  people  were  as  little  disposed,  as  they 
were  incompetent  to  inquire.  Publick  balls, 
festivals,  and  illuminations  were  given  at  its 
expense,  to  flatter  that  indolence  and  love  of 
idle  shew,  which  forms  so  prominent  a  feature 
in  the  Italian  character.  Every  one  who  knows 
any  thing  of  the  functionaries  of  the  late  French 
government,  knows  that  parsimony  was  not 
among  their  vices.  They  sometimes  bestow- 
ed their  largesses  upon  the  people  with  an  un- 
sparing hand.  This  made  them  the  favourites 
of  the   Italian  inn-keepers,  a  loquacious  tribe, 

French  people,  was  to  be  deputed  to  the  Illyrian  provin- 
ces. The  object  of  this  mission,  was  to  close  the  ports  of 
the  Adriatick,  and  to  afford  Las  Cases,  so  deeply  versed 
in  physical  geography,  room  for  the  exercise  of  his  inge- 
nuity, in  opening  new  sources  of  territorial  aggrandise- 
ment. The  forcible  possession  of  this  port  by  the  French, 
the  restrictions  to  which  its  commerce  was  immediately 
subjected,-— the  heavy  contributions  imposed  upon  its  citi- 
zens, and  the  seizure  of  private  property  to  a  conside- 
rable amount,  if  they  passed  over  the  heads  of  the  low- 
er classes,  fell  with  a  destructive  weight  upon  commer- 
cial credit,  the  fortunes  of  the  monied  interest,  and  the 
profits  of  great  capitalists. 


50 

who  seize  every  opportunity  of  eulogizing 
them  to  strangers.  I  was  at  Trieste  when 
Prince  Schwartzenberg  arrived  there,  and 
lodged  at  the  same  locanda,  where  the  Prince 
and  his  suite  were  accommodated.  In  the 
morning  the  cameriere,  who  in  Italy  always 
personates  the  f padrone  J  landlord,  gave  me  a 
pathetick  account  of  the  distresses  of  the  coun- 
try, since  the  expulsion  of  the  French ;  but 
the  topicks  he  dwelt  on  most  were,  the  parsi- 
mony and  (Economical  mode  of  travelling  of 
the  Austrians,  contrasted  with  the  prodigality 
and  splendid  retinues  of  the  French.  He 
spoke  with  rapture  of  the  visits  of  Jerome  Buo- 
naparte to  Trieste,  the  sums  which  he  distri- 
buted among  the  servants  of  the  inn,  and  the 
splendid  donations  of  Napoleon  himself,  when- 
ever he  visited  his  Italian  dominions, — "Ah! 
Signore,  allora  pioveva  la  moueta,  maadesso" — 
and  concluded  his  account  with  execrating  the 
laurels  of  Blucher  and  '  Wellington,  as  the 
cause  of  the  scarcity  of  cash,  and  the  suspen- 
sion of  those  golden  showers,  in  which  the  po- 
litical Jupiter  of  France  descended  into  the 
embraces  of  his  beloved  Italy. 

This    ostentation    in    the    functionaries   of 
France,  was  partly    the    effect  of  vanity,    but 


60 

more  an  artifice  of  ambition,  dictated  by  pro- 
found policy.  It  served  to  dress  the  naked 
acts  of  despotism  in  an  imposing  brilliancy. 
The  faux  brilliant  of  the  late  French  govern- 
ment, like  a  meteor  fed  by  the  vapours  of 
putrefaction,  seemed  to  augment  its  lustre  in- 
proportion  to  the  foulness  of  the  source  from 
which  it  emanated  ;  and  its  fascination  over  the 
common  mind,  appeared  to  increase  in  a  direct 
ratio,  to  the  boldness  and  profligacy  of  the  mea- 
sures it  was  designed  to  palliate  or  conceal 
with  a  veil  of  dazzling  splendour. 

To  the  motives  which  already  have  been  as- 
signed, of  a  preference  in  the  minds  of  the 
Triestins  for  the  French,  may  be  added  others 
which  are  more  rational  and  solid.  Ecco  tin'' Ope- 
ra di  Napoleone,  is  almost  the  continued  excla- 
mation of  a  Triestin  to  a  stranger,  when  he 
surveys  those  works  of  publick  usefulness  and 
ornament,  to  which  he  is  anxious  to  direct  his 
attention.  The  French  have  left  behind  them 
in  this  place,  monuments  which  remind  its  in- 
habitants every  moment  of  some  good  qualities 
in  this  light  and  frivolous  people,  which  render- 
ed them  worthier  of  empire  than  their  present 
lords  ;  and  if  any  thing  could  justify  the  immea- 
surable ambition  of  their  late  chief,  and  excuse 


61 

his  crimes,  it  was  that  promptitude  with  which 
he  seized  and  executed  the  most  comprehensive 
plans  of  national  aggrandisement,  which  of- 
ten led  him  in  the  loftiness  of  his  views, 
to  overlook  individual  interests  and  feelings, 
to  which  every  general  system  of  policy  must 
conform.  During  the  term  in  which  they  had 
possession  of  this  port,  they  effected  almost 
wonders,  in  conquering  some  of  those  natural 
disadvantages,  which  Trieste,  perhaps  more 
than  other  harbour  in  Europe,  labours  under. 
They  beautified  its  environs  with  publick  walks, 
and  laid  the  foundations  of  some  noble  improve- 
ments, which  have  since  slowly  advanced  un- 
der the  government  of  Austria.  The  parti- 
sans of  this  government  attempt  to  excuse  its 
supineness,  by  pleading  the  present  embarrass- 
ed state  of  the  publick  finances,  as  if  these  fi- 
nancial difficulties  were  not  themselves  the  most 
^unequivocal  symptoms  of  the  constitutional 
vices  of  a  weak  and  improvident  govern- 
ment. 

The  steadiness  and  vigour  with  which  the 
French  government  directed  its  resources,  ena- 
bled it  to  accomplish  the  most  difficult  under- 
taking with  a  celerity  resembling  the  operations 
of   magick,    and  the  hesitating    and  cautious 


62 

procedure  of  the  Austrians,  is  the  more  con- 
spicuous, as  it  appears  in  contrast  with  that 
promptitude  and  energy  which  carried  into  im- 
mediate effect,  the  plans  of  their  predecessors. 
Buonaparte  has  left  in  this  quarter  of  Europe, 
the  outline  of  many  a  noble  undertaking,  but 
it  is  only  the  outline  that  he  has  left ;  no  ar- 
tist bred  in  the  present  school  of  politicks, 
can  be  found  with  abilities  sufficient  to  finigh 
the  designs  of  so  great  a  master. 

In  addition  to  the  acknowledgments  due  to 
him  for  improvements,  from  which  the  city  of 
Trieste  derives  a  solid  and  permanent  benefit, 
there  was  an  evil  incident  to  this,  as  to  most 
of  the  cities  in  Italy,  for  the  partial  removal 
of  which  he  is  equally  entitled  to  its  gra- 
titude. He  found  the  population  of  beggars  at 
Trieste  immense ;  some  were  pressed  into  the 
military  service,  while  the  aged  and  the  infirm* 
were  employed  in  such  light  tasks,  as  enabled 
them  to  earn  a  comfortable  subsistence  ;  by 
which  means,  the  distresses  of  this  most  un- 
happy class  ol  human  beings  were  relieved, 
and  society  freed  from  an  app  hension  of  those 
hardy  and  atrocious  crimes,  to  which  these 
wretches  were  often  incited,  by  the  hoplessness 
of  their  condition,  or  impelled  by  the  pressure 


63 

of  immediate  want.  I  need  not  inform  the  rea- 
der, that  the  relief  afforded  to  the  lower  orders, 
was  a  consequence  of  his  disposition  to  im- 
prove and  beautify  his  Italian  dominions,  which 
we  have  seen  formed  so  conspicuous  a  fea- 
ture in  the  policy  of  Napoleon,  and  which  was 
the  more  meritorious,  as  it  could  furnish  no 
positive  accessions  of  opulence,  or  power  to 
France,  its  beneficial  effects  being  local,  and 
sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  Trieste,  confined  to 
a  small  territorial  district.  By  pursuing  the  same 
course  of  policy  in  Italy,  he  in  a  great  mea- 
sure suppressed  that  frightful  spectacle  of  men- 
dicancy, which  marred  so  much  the  pleasures 
and  beauties  of  her  classick  scenes. 

Since  the  war,  Trieste  has  been  inundated 
by  beggars  ;  an  evil  which  is  considered  by  its 
inhabitants  as  a  consequence  of  its  annexation 
to  Austria  ;  whether  their  doctrine  be  supported 
by  facts,  will  appear  in  the  course  of  some  en- 
suing observptions  ;  it  is  certainly  one  to  which 
the  human  mind  is  led  by  some  of  its  most  ob- 
vious and  natural  conclusions.  The  single  ar- 
gument of  hunger,  is  more  powerful  than  a 
volume  of  syllogisms,  nor  can  we  expect  the 
Italians,  restless  and  indignant  as  they  are,  un- 
der the  yoke  of  Austria,  to  take  a  comprehen- 


64 


sive  and  dispassionate  survey  of  things, — ad- 
mitting them  to  be  in  errour, — and  that  a  view 
of  the  actual  state  of  Europe,  on  a  more  exten- 
ded scale,  would  banish  the  delusion  from 
their  minds. 

■ 

But  this  scene  of  misery  in  the  inferiour  walks 
of  society,  is  not  confined  to  Trieste.  It  com- 
prehends the  neighbouring  towns  and  villages, 
and  extends  over  the  adjacent  districts  and  pro- 
vinces. Many  well  attested  cases  of  persons 
dying  of  absolute  hunger,  were  cited  to  con- 
firm the  representations,  made  on  all  hands,  of 
the  sufferings  of  the  poor.  I  have  repeatedly 
seen  groups  of  these  unhappy  wretches,  ea- 
gerly searching  the  polluted  offal  of  the  kitchen, 
for  something  to  satisfy  the  imperious  cravings 
of  nature.  In  some  parts  of  the  Venetian  and 
Milanese  territories,  many  of  this  unfortunate 
class  of  sufferers,  have  supported  life  by  feed- 
ing on  grass  and  raw  vegetables.  But  I  shall 
confine  myself,  for  the  present,  to  the  descrip- 
tion of  that  porion  of  misery,  exhibited  by 
the  province  of  Istria  and  its   vicinity. 

Udine,  a  noble  and  spacious  city,  situated 
in  the  midst  a  of  fertile  plain,  under  a  mild  sky, 
and   watered    by  the  beautiful  streams  of  the 


65 


Isonzo  and  the  Tagliamento,  once  contained 
near  an  hundred  thousand  inhabitants.  It  can- 
not, at  present,  reckon  a  population  of  more 
than  one  fourth  of  that  number;  but  the  de- 
serted air  of  this  fine  city,  is  not  the  only  strik- 
ing circumstance  of  its  present  condition ;  a 
multitude  of  objects  of  compassion,  present 
themselves  in  all  the  publick  places  to  the  tra- 
veller, with  claims  so  urgent  on  his  charity,  as 
are  beyond  his  power  of  resistance.  At  the 
numerous  intersections  of  the  roads  leading  to 
the  different  villages  and  towns,  his  passage  is 
intercepted  by  crowds  of  old  men,  women  and 
children,  whose  dress  and  aspect  bespeak  a  con- 
dition of  wretchedness,  of  which  we  have  no 
example  in  America. 

The  actual  state  of  Goritzia  combined  with 
that  of  Udine,  carries  with  it  an  irresistible 
conviction  that  there  is  a  fault  at  the  head-quar- 
ters of  this  great  empire.  Goritzia  maintain- 
ed formerly  an  extensive  and  flourishing  export 
commerce  with  Carinthia,  Carniola,  and  Trieste, 
which  since  has  dwindled  into  almost  nothing ; 
and  the  consequent  drain  of  specie  has  left  it 
almost  without  a  circulating  medium.  Even 
while  it  was  the  theatre  of  hostile  operations, 
and  exposed  to  the  terrours  and  rageful  pas- 
10 


66 


sions  of  war,  its  prosperity  received  no  wounds 
so  incurable  as  those  under  which  it  suffers  in 
this  season  of  profound  peace. 

When  at  Goritzia,  I  became  acquainted  with 
the  Count  di  T ,  descended  from  an  an- 
cient noble  family  of  that  country,  and  perhaps, 
the  wealthiest  individual  in  it.  I  found  him  high- 
ly accomplished,  uniting  with  the  engaging  ad- 
dress of  a  polite  and  finished  gentleman,  and 
man  of  the  world,  a  fund  of  information  on 
every  subject ;  but  particularly  well  acquaint- 
ed with  the  politicks  of  the  empire,  and  their 
practical  operation  upon  that  portion  of  the 
country  which  came  within  the  immediate 
sphere  of  his  observation.  He  drew  a  compari- 
son between  the  former  and  present  condition 
of  Goritzia,  which  was  by  no  means  calculated 
to  impress  a  stranger  with  a  favourable  idea 
of  the  Austrian  government.  His  statement 
of  facts  corroborated  the  impressions  I  my- 
self had  received  at  varioust  times,  front 
circumstances  which  fell  within  the  range  of 
my  own  observation.  He  also  informed  me  that 
in  the  course  of  a  discussion  provoked  by 
the  Emperour,  he  ventured  to  unveil  to 
him  the  real  state  of  the  country,  and  pro- 
posed such  a  system  of  measures  as  he  deemed 


67 


safe  and  efficacious  ;  that  the  Emperour  ac- 
quiesced in  what  he  said,  and  gave  him  assur- 
ances of  relief;  but  that  subsequent  to  this 
conversation  he  met  the  minister  of  finance, 
who  reprimanded  him  for  the  objectionable  doc- 
trines he  had  so  freely  communicated  to  his 
Majesty,  and  stated  to  him  arguments  which 
he  thought  amounted  to  a  refutation  of  these 
doctrines.  But  the  Count,  whose  confidence  in 
his  own  views,  was  too  well  founded  on  fact 
and  positive  testimony,  to  be  shaken  by  the 
subtleties  of  a  mere  financier,  in  a  still  bolder 
strain  of  expostulation  reiterated  the  charge 
of  incapacity  in  those,  whose  efforts  to  over- 
come the  fiscal  difficulties,  and  to  prop  the, 
falling  credit  of  a  great  empire,  evinced  no 
abilities  superiour  to  what  are  employed  in 
conducting  the  operations  of  a  banking  insti- 
tution. 

In  districts  less  favoured  by  nature,  the  dis- 
tress is  far  greater,  and  the  emigrations  of  beg- 
gars from  the  impoverished  villages  of  Istria 
and  Carniola,  inundate  the  towns  on  the  sea- 
coast,  where  commerce  still  continues  to  main- 
tain a  face  of  prosperity,  that  has  vanished  in 
the  interiour. 


68 


Among  the  general  causes  of  this  impoverish- 
ment may  be  reckoned,  the  ruinous  effects  of 
a  depreciated  paper  currency,— the  failures  of 
considerable  manufactories, — a  want  of  enter- 
prise in  the  employment  of  capital, — rendered 
inveterate  and  incurable  by  the  unwieldy  and 
ponderous  inactivity  of  the  Austrian  monarchy, 
fettered  by  a  mass  of  obsolete  usages  and 
precedents,  and  encumbered  with  a  nobility, 
whose  haughty  manners  like  the  face  of  their 
country,  retain  some  of  the  barbarous  features 
and   iron  harshness  of  the   feudal  times. 

In  the  exhausted  state  of  Austria,  at  the 
close  of  the  successful  but  desperate  and 
bloody  struggle,  made  by  the  powers  of  Eu- 
rope for  their  independence,  much  might  have 
been  done  by  a  wise  and  provident  govern- 
ment, to  alleviate  the  pressure  of  a  state  of 
things,  unavoidable  at  the  termination  of  that 
arduous  conflict.  That  was  a  season,  as  Mr. 
Burke  says,  "  of  beginning  a  new  course  and 
"  opening  a  new  reckoning,  and  even  in  the 
"  depths  of  their  calamity)  and  on  the  very 
"  ruins  of  their  country,  of  laying  the  founda- 
"  tions  of  a  towering  and   durable  greatness." 

If  ever  there  was  a  time  favourable  to  po- 
litical reform 3 — eradicating  the  vices  of  the  go- 


69 


vernment, — establishing  a  system  of  enlarged 
and  liberal  policy,  and  renovating  and  invigo- 
rating the  state  throughout  all  its  parts,  it  was 
that,  when  Austria,  rescued  from  the  common 
foe,  by  the  valour  and  fidelity  of  her  people, 
found  herself  in  possession  of  those  mo- 
ral energies,  which  had  been  called  into  acti- 
vity by  the  contest  for  her  independence. 
No  vigorous  or  efficacious  measures,  howe- 
ver, have  yet  been  undertaken  for  the  relief  of 
the  publick.  The  want  of  decision  and  ener- 
gy in  the  councils  of  the  empire,  may  in  a 
great  measure  be  ascribed  to  the  temper,  and 
disposition  of  its  present  sovereign,  who  with 
the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  suffers  him- 
self to  be  the  sceptical  dupe  of  those  imme- 
diately around  him.  Every  plan  of  reform 
submitted  to  him,  seems  to  command  his  as- 
sent for  the  moment,  but  the  slow  progress 
towards  any  of  the  great  and  desirable  objects 
of  commercial  or  financial  reform,  leaves  no 
doubt  that  at  the  court  of  Vienna,  local  and 
personal  interests,  are  suffered  to  prevail  in 
opposition  to  the  general  welfare  of  the  empire. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  it  would  greatly 
contribute  to  the  trade  and  prosperity  of  her 
ports    in  the    Adriatick,     if   that    commerce 


70 


which  is  held  with  the  interiour,  through  the 
ports  of  the  Elbe,  were  discouraged,  by  rai- 
sing the  transit  duties  on  merchandise,  intro- 
duced through  that  channel.  This  appears  to 
be  a  proposition  almost  self-evident,  yet  there 
is  a  strong  Bohemian  interest  at  court,  that  does 
not  find  it  difficult  to  impress  the  Emperour, 
with  a  belief,  that  such  a  measure,  by  disor- 
ganising a  long  established  system  of  trade, 
would  be  productive  of  infinite  mischief. — The 
expiring  commerce  of  Trieste  and  Fiume, — 
the  almost  irretrievable  ruin  of  Venice, — a 
paper  currency  gradually  reduced,  by  a  suc- 
cession of  arbitrary  decrees,  below  the  tenth 
of  its  original  value, — arbitrary  reductions  of 
the  coin,  embarrassing  the  calculations  and 
views  of  the  trader,  and  striking  at  the  foun- 
dation of  publick  credit,  may  serve  to  shew 
what  progress  the  science  of  political  oeco- 
nomy    has  made  in   Germany. 

The  taxes  and  mode  of  collecting  them, — 
the  conscription  and  police,  were  unquestiona- 
bly great  sources  of  individual  oppression,  un- 
der Napoleon.  But  the  police,  which  has  been 
described  as  constituting  one  of  the  most  ter- 
rifick  features  of  the  late  despotism,   still  con- 


71 


tinues  to  prevail  in  all  its  rigour  at  Trieste,* 
and  in  the  Venetian  and  Milanese  territories; 
— and  concerning  the  petty  vexations  to  which 
the  people  were  exposed,  from  tax-gatherers 
and  other  officers  of  the  revenue,  I  think  no 
one  will  deny  that,  as  pick-pockets^  the  Ger- 
mans are  far  inferiour  to  the  French  in  hu- 
manity and  politeness. 

It  will  no  doubt  excite  the  surprise  of  some 
to  be  told,  that  Francis  occasionally  resorts  to 
the  same  expedients  for  supporting  the  splen- 
dour of  the  imperial  household,  and  for  pay- 
ing the  expenses  of  the  civil  list,  that  were 
employed  for  the  same  purposes  by  Napoleon, 

*  Madame  Bacciochi,  eldest  sister  of  Napoleon,  ci- 
devant  Princess  of  Piombino  and  Grand  Duchess  of  Tus- 
cany, reside?  at  present  at  Trieste,  which  has  been  al- 
lotted her  as  a  place  of  domicil  by  the  Austrian  govern- 
ment. Her  situation  here  is  not  much  more  enviable, 
than  that  of  her  brother  at  St.  Helena  ;  all  her  domes- 
tick  occurrences  are  regularly  communicated  to  the  po- 
lice, by  spies  in  the  shape  of  servants,  stationed  in  her 
house.  She  is  cut  off  from  all  correspondence  with  the 
different  members  of  ber  family.  The  duke  of  Padua, 
(Arrighi)  and  his  amiable  and  beautiful  consort,  were  sub- 
ject to  the  same  rigorous  supervision,  and  indeed,  there 
is  not  an  Italian  of  any  political  distinction  at  Trieste, 
concerning  whose  conduct  the  police  does  not  daily 
receive  exact  information. 


72 


when  emperour  of  France.  The  magnifi- 
cent presents  made  to  Maria  Louisa  and  her 
son,  by  the  citizens  of  Paris,  were  officially 
announced,  as  contributions  voluntarily  im- 
posed upon  themselves  by  the  people.  This 
was  a  measure  of  deception  resorted  to  du- 
ring the  revolution,  and  perhaps  excusable  in 
the  policy  of  Buonaparte,  who  fell  heir  to 
that  system  of  fraud  and  violence,  established 
by  his  republican  predecessors  ;  but  that  a  si- 
milar artifice  should  be  practised,  under  the 
government  of  a  legitimate  monarch,  may 
justly  excite  our  wonder.  A  short  time  sub- 
sequent to  his  late  marriage,  a  tax  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  donation  to  the  Empress,  was  im- 
posed upon  all  the  subjects  cf  the  empire. 

The  share  to  be  paid  by  each  individual 
was  left  indefinite,  but  as  the  name  of  the 
contributor,  and  the  sum  subscribed  appear- 
ed publickly,  every  citizen  paid  a  sum  not 
proportionate  to  his  resources,  but  according 
to  the  fund  of  his  bounty.  The  generous  and 
high  minded  part  of  the  community,  in  tins 
instance,  sustained  the  burthen  of  the  con- 
tribution, and  equalized  the  deficiencies  of 
meanness  and  avarice.  It  is  scarce  necessary 
to  remark,  that  a  demand  of  this  nature  would 
not  have  been  made,  if  the  government   Were 


73 


not  aware,  that  the  people  are  operated  upon 
by  a  motive  more  irresistible,  than  an  attach- 
ment to  the  person  of  their  sovereign.  What 
rendered  this  tax  the  more  odious,  was  the 
circumstance  of  its  being  imposed  during  a 
season  of  universal  distress,  and  in  a  time  of 
profound  peace.  The  exigencies  of  the  war 
afforded  some  apology,  for  the  fiscal  oppres- 
sions of  the  French,  and  in  the  successful  ac- 
complishment of  Buonaparte's  ambitious  views, 
they  were  taught  to  expect  a  happier  and  more 
prosperous  state  of  things. 

Any  one  who  attentively  considers  these 
facts,  will  with  difficulty  believe,  that  even 
Germany  itself  enjoys  that  prosperity  and  hap- 
piness, for  which  it  is  so  eminently  fitted  by 
the  moral  habits  of  its  people,  and  the  ferti- 
lity of  its  soil.  These  facts  are  indeed  furnish- 
ed, by  a  particular  section  of  the  i^ustrian  do- 
minions, but  let  it  be  remembered,  that  the 
division  to  which  they  relate,  includes  a  tract 
of  country,  uncommonly  favoured  by  na- 
ture ;  where  if  so  much  misery  is  to  be 
found,  we  may  fairly  conclude  that  govern- 
ment is  in  fault,  and  that  therefore  the  evil  is 
general.  If  the  capital  exhibits  a  scene  more 
animated  and  flourishing,  the  fact  is  easily  ac- 
11 


74 


counted  for.  The  expenditures  of  the  court, 
and  the  immense  fortunes  of  the  nobility, 
which  find  employment  in  this  extensive  mart 
of  pleasure,  give  to  Vienna  a  face  of  prospe- 
rity which  is  apt  to  deceive  those,  whose  range 
of  observation  has  never  extended  beyond 
its  environs. 

But  whether  the  German  provinces  of  the 
empire,  are  in  a  flourishing  or  impoverished 
condition,  is  of  little  consequence  to  the  pre- 
sent argument,  while  the  proofs  of  misery  are  so 
numerous,  and  the  symptoms  of  discontent  so 
strong  in  its  Italian  dominions.  They,  more 
than  any,  contribute  to  support  the  ostentatious 
splendour  that  immediately  surrounds  the 
throne,  and  suffer  a  general  impoverishment, 
while  their  resources  are  drained  to  pam- 
per the  luxury  of  the  capital.  The  concentra- 
tion of  the  riches  of  the  empire  in  one  spot, 
does  not  take  place  in  order,  that  they  may 
afterwards  be  more  equally  and  generally  diffu- 
sed. The  tide  of  wealth  which  with  so  constant 
a  current,  sets  from  the  provinces  to  the  metro- 
polis, does  not  return  by  any  secret  channels  of 
circulation,  to  beautify  and  enrich  the  face  of 
the  country,  but  stagnates  in  the  treasury  of  a 
government   at  once   rapacious  and    parsimo- 


75 


nious.  The  Italians  tell  you  that  the  weight 
of  the  French  yoke,  was  very  much  alleviated 
by  the  works  of  embellishment  and  utility  that 
were  undertaken  by  order  of  that  government. 
The  construction  of  roads,  bridges,  publick- 
walks  and  gardens,  besides,  gave  employment 
to  the  labouring  classes  of  society,  and  the 
multitudes  deprived  of  subsistence,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  relinquishment  of  such  under- 
takings by  the  present  government,  have  in- 
creased the  misery  and  discontents  of  this  quar- 
ter of  Italy  to  an  alarming  degree.  Nor  is  this 
hostility  to  the  reigning  government  confined  to 
the  class  of  indigent  labourers.  Persons  of 
easy  fortune,  whose  love  of  indolence  might  be 
supposed  to  render  them  averse  to  any  change, 
either  sympathising  with  the  distresses  of  the 
poor,  or  experiencing  in  some  instances  them- 
selves, the  effects  of  a  weak  and  improvident 
government,  express  similar  sentiments.  They 
contrast  the  monuments  which  the  French  have 
left  either  of  usefulness  or  ornament,  with  the 
total  want  of  enterprise  of  the  Austrian  mo- 
narchy, and  on  many  occasions  hesitate 
not  to  deplore  as  a  calamitous  event  for  their 
country,  the  fall  of  Napoleon  ;  *  who  if  at  one 

♦Nothing  more  contributed  to  the  popularity  of  Bona- 
parte in    Italy,  than   thd  respectful  manner  in  which   he 


76 

time  he  seemed  a  destroying-  angel  desolating 
Italy,  afterwards  appeared  like  her  tutelary 
genius,  raising  her  from  the  depths  of  her  ca- 
lamities, reviving  her  almost  extinguished  hopes? 
and  renovating  her  with  new  life  and  vigour. 

Thus  have  I  endeavoured  on  one  hand,  to 
point  out  the  acts  of  the  late  French  govern- 
ment, which  have  attached  to  it  the  Italian 
population    of    Trieste ;    and  on  the   other,  to 

always  spoke  of  that  country.  In  this  he  gave  a  proof 
of  his  penetration  into  the  master  springs  of  human 
conduct.  Whatever  conclusions  he  might  have  formed 
in  his  own  mind,  with  respect  to  the  character  of  the 
Italians,  he  always  spoke  of  them  as  a  people,  whose  ge- 
nius had  hitherto  been  prevented  from  appearing  in 
its  full  lustre,  by  the  want  of  an  efficient  government. 
If  the  following  anecdote  be  true,  which  I  have  heard 
repeated  by  more  than  one  person  at  Triest,  the 
En  perour  Francis  is  inclined,  both  to  think  and  to  speak 
ill  of  the  Italians.  In  his  journey  in  eighteen  hundred 
and  six  pen,  through  the  Milanese  and  Venetian  territo- 
ries, he  is  said  to  have  travelled  with  a  powerful  es- 
cort as  far  as  the  frontiers  of  Istria,  where  he  dismissed 
them  all  to  a  few  attendants,  saving  that  he  now  felt  no  ap- 
prehensions for  his  personal  safety,  as  he  considered 
himself  within  the  limits  of  his  own  dominions  ;  thereby 
wounding  the  amour  propre  of  his  Italian  subjects, 
and  tacitly  confessing  his  belief  in  their  want  of  allegiance 
to  his  crown. 


77 


mark  those  defects  of  policy,  which  have  laid 
*he  foundation  in  their  minds  of  an  insupera- 
ble aversion  to  Austria.     In   stating  the  caus- 
es  which    have   contributed   to  this   alienation 
of  mind,   I  am  satisfied  that  the   enumeration 
I  have  offered  is  far  from  being  complete.     Ma- 
ny facts   have  been  purposely  omitted,  lest  in 
the  opinion  of  persons   not   possessed  of  the 
same  means   of  information   with   the  author* 
they  might  happen  to  give  an  air  of  exagge- 
ration to  his  account.     The  state  of  the  pub- 
lick  mind  in  this  quarter  of  Europe,  as  it  fell 
under   his    observation  in  the   years   eighteen 
hundred    and    sixteen  and   eighteen    hundred 
and  seventeen,  indicated  a  temper  by  no  means 
favourable   to   a  state  of  lasting    repose ;   and 
causes   were   continually   occurring   still  more 
to  exasperate  and  inflame  it.    The   impetuous 
and    fiery  disposition  of   the    Italians,  urging 
them  at  every  opportunity  to  express  their  con- 
tempt for   the   Austrians,    whom  they    consi- 
der a  dull  and   spiritless   nation,    without  the 
heart  to  conceive,  or  the  hand  to   execute  any 
daring     or    generous    enterprise   of    policy    or 
ambition.    The  Austrians,  on  the  other  hand,  re- 
garding the   Italians  as  a  degenerate  race,  long 
habituated  to  the  yoke  of  a  foreign  power,  al- 
ways cherishing  the  idea  of  emancipation,   but 
never  ripe    for  action,  and   in  whom  the  spi- 


78 

rit  of  liberty  evaporates  in  vain,  boast  and  me- 
naces, 

.     .    •     .     .     desio  verace 
Di  prisca  intera  liberta  non  entra 

In  questo  popol  vile 

Amillea  millei  servi 

Tu  troverai,  nel  lor  parlar  feroci, 

Vili  all'  oprar,  nullial   periglio.*    . 

But  those  who  look  somewhat  deeper  into 
the  character  of  the  Italians,  see  in  this  enslav- 
ed people,  a  fund  of  talent  and  energy,  which 
under  the  direction  and  control  of  a  vigorous 
and  politick  chief,  might  be  capable  of  no  des- 
picable efforts  in  shaking  off  the  yoke  of  a 
power,  so  little  calculated  for  extensive  domi- 
nion as  Austria. 

The  foregoing  observations  relate  to  that 
portion  of  Italy,  which  is  situated  around  the 
head  of  the  Adriatick ;  but  taken  in  con- 
nexion with  some  remarks,  that  will  naturally 
occur  in  the  sequtl  of  this  volume,  they  may 
contribute  to  the  elucidation  of  the  general 
political  state  of  Italy.  The  author  will  here- 
after occasionally  resume  the  same  subject,    as 

*Alfieri. 


79 


it  shall  happen  to  be  suggested  by  the  train 
of  his  reflections,  guided  in  the  discussion 
of  this,  as  of  other  topicks,  more  by  the  na- 
tural laws  of  association  in  the  human  mind, 
than  by  any  artificial  principle  of  arrangement, 
which,  however  desirable  it  may  be  in  a  trea- 
tise of  pure  science,  will  hardly  be  required 
in  a  work  like  the  present,  where  it  is  impos- 
sible at  almost  every  step,  not  to  deviate  from 
the  rules  of  didactick  simplicity. 

Besides  the  Opera  Buffa,  masquerades  and 
other  amusements  of  the  carnival,  there  is 
established  at  Trieste  a  Casino,  or  fashionable 
club.  The  casino  is  open  at  all  seasons  of 
the  year,  and  each  subscriber  enjoys  the  privi- 
lege of  introducing  a  stranger.  It  consists  of 
a  reading  room,  a  ball-room  and  apartments 
for  cards,  musick,  and  conversazzione,  all 
fitted  up  with  remarkable  elegance.  Here  the 
wealth,  beauty,  and  rank  of  Trieste  assem- 
ble to  contend  for  superiority,  and  if  the  dis- 
play of  opulence  and  nobility,  be  not  as  daz- 
zling here  as  in  other  places,  nhe  spectacle  of 
beauty  has  more  variety  ;  for  here  may  be  seen 
the  modish  airs  and  fashionable  dresses  of  Vi- 
enna,    the    disinvoltura  of    the  Italian   belles. 


80 


mixed  with  the  graces  of  Athens  and  Spar- 
ta.*— There  are  also,  in  every  week  through- 
out the  year,  musical  parties  and  conversaz- 
zione  at  particular  houses. 


After  the  carnival,  the   Opera  Seria  was  got 
up  with  great  splendour.     The  Emperour  was 
daily  expected,  and  his  approach  was  announ- 
ced  by  the  arrival  of  troops  of  Venetian  dan- 
cers and  singers,  and  a  swarm  of  parasites  and 
adventurers,  mendici  mimes  balatrones,  hoc  genus 
omne,  who  generally  form  a  part  of  the  train 
of  royalty.     The  arrival  of  such  artists  as   Pi- 
saroni,  Pinotti,  and  Tachinardi,  however,   pro- 
duced a  much  greater  sensation  at  Trieste,  than 
the  long  expected  visit  of  its  sovereign.     Two 
factions  arose  about  the  merits  of  two  eminent 
ballerine,     Torelli  and    Cortese,  and  the  contro- 
versy was  agitated   with  all   the  heat   of  par- 
ty animosity.     The  theatre  resembled  the  scene 
of  a  popular  election,  each  party  endeavouring 
to  drown  the  plaudits  of   the  other  by  hisses 
and    exclamations,     and   hailing    its    favourite 

*  The  portrait  of  Helen,  as  drawn  by  Homer,  ap- 
peared to  me  realized  in  Madame  P — ,  a  Greek  lady, 
who  fled  with  her  husband  to  Trieste  from  the  tyran- 
ny of  the  Turkish  government. 


81 


with  shouts  of  triumphant  applause,  until  the 
governour  had  to  interpose  his  authority,  to 
restore  decorum. 

The  opera  house  is  a  large  edifice,  with  a 
handsome  front,  forming  one  side  of  a  con- 
siderable square.  It  is  situated  on  the  margin 
of  the  sea,  near  the  Molo  di  St.  Carlo.  The 
sounds  of  the  orchestra  and  the  stage,  often 
pass  through  its  windows,  lulling  the  waves 
into  attention,  and  coming  upon  the  senses  of 
the  sea-worn  mariner,  like  those  scented  gales, 
that  blow  from  the  coast  of  "  Araby  the  blest." 
The  Greek  sailor  seated  on  the  deck  of  his 
vessel,  often  hears  a  low  concert  of  instru- 
mental sounds,  and  voices  borne  through  the 
air,  which  might  recall  to  his  mind  the  mi- 
racles of  that  ancient  musick,  which  expired 
when  the  soul  of  his  country  was   conquered. 

Should  this  description  appear  to  some  too 
poetical,  let  me  present  the  temple  of  the  Mu-  . 
ses,  in  a  light  less  pleasing  to  the  imagination. 
The  filth  and  misery  that  surround  it, — the 
haggard  forms  of  indigence  and  vice,  that 
are  seen  prowling  in  its  portico  and  vesti- 
bule,— the  dim  lights  that  burn  in  the  cabin 

12 


82 

of  some  Greek  galiot,  the  residence  of  loath- 
someness, and  impurity.  The  mind  impati- 
ently seeks  oblivion  of  these  disgusting  re- 
alities, amidst  the  illusions  of  the  opera, 
where  the  enchanting  voice  and  voluptuous 
dance  soon  drive  far  away  all  ideas  of  pain 
and  sorrow. 

The  interiour  of  the  Italian  opera  houses 
is  much  better  calculated  for  stage  effect,  than 
that  of  our  theatres.  They  are  generally  light- 
ed from  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  by  a  large 
chandelier,  which  can  be  elevated  or  lowered 
at  pleasure.  The  deep  shade  into  which  the 
theatre  is  instantly  cast,  by  raising  it, 
gives  a  powerful  effect  to  the  scenick  deco- 
rations, and  to  the  dress  and  expression  of 
the  actor.  On  great  occasions,  the  Italians 
illuminate  their  theatres  very  brilliantly,  and 
then  one  can  judge  of  the  difference  of  the 
effect  produced  by  the  stage. 

The  boxes  (palchi)  are  divided  from  one  ano- 
ther by  partitions,  which  give  their  theatre 
a  dark  and  heavy  appearance  in  comparison 
with  ours.  But  they  have  the  advantage  of 
being  private.     In  the  Pheriwe  at  Venice,  and 


83 


other  great  theatres  in  Italy,  these  boxes  are 
tastefully  fitted  up,  with  mirrours  and  other 
ornaments,  and  are  a  sort  of  private  coffee- 
room,    where  the   proprietor  receives  visits. 

The  pit  appears  to  be  the  only  part  of  the 
audience,  who  really  feel  the  beauty  of  the 
opera.  The  apparent  inattention  of  the  boxes 
is  remarkable.  They  are  oftener  engaged  in 
conversation,  than  in  listening  to  the  actor  on 
the  stage,  yet  so  exquisite  are  the  ears  of  this 
people,  that  they  will  pause  in  the  midst  of 
the  most  earnest  discourse,  to  mark  a  false 
note   or   an   improper   emphasis. 

I  shall  say  nothing  here,  of  the  privacy 
of  the  Italian  theatres,  and  their  favourable- 
ness to  midnight  assignations  and  secret 
amours,  yet  I  am  persuaded  these  criminal 
practices  prevail  in  a  much  less  extent, 
than  is    generally     believed     in  this    country. 

The  rules  of  exteriour  decorum  are  rigid- 
ly observed.  A.  lady  is  not  permitted  to 
suspend  a  shawl  or  a  handkerchief  from  the 
boxes,  and  even  the  accidental  dropping  of 
a  glove,  would  perhaps  excite  a  murmur  in 
the  pit,  and  be  censured   with  a  gentle    repri- 


84 


mand  by  the  police.  No  spectator  is  allow- 
ed to  encroach  upon  the  rights  of  another, 
and  all  noises  and  exclamations,  except 
such  as  usage  has  established,  as  marks  of  ge- 
neral approbation  or  applause,  are  unlicensed. 

In  introducing  the  reader  to  the  grand  ope- 
ra of  Italy,  1  must  request  him  to  bear  in 
mind,  that  the  person  who  undertakes  to 
conduct  him  into  this  scene  of  enchantment, 
is  not  a  diletante,  professing  a  knowledge  of 
the  refined  beauties  of  the  art  which  here 
appears  in  its  highest  perfection.  Superfici- 
ally acquainted  with  its  elementary  princi- 
ples, he  can  estimate  its  beauties,  only  by 
their  effects,  and  in  determining  its  merits, 
is  guided  by  no  other  standard  than  his 
own  feelings.  In  a  mind  not  habituated  to 
judge  by  the  rules  and  principles  of  art,  the 
pleasures  of  musick  are  influenced  by  the 
state  of  the  imagination,  nor  is  it  possible  for 
such  a  mind  to  form  a  very  clear  concep- 
tion of  those  exquisite  performances  of  art, 
which  please  only  chromatick  ears,  until  it 
has  learned  to  separate  from  the  real  and 
permanent  beauties  of  melody,  those  ima- 
ginary and  perishable  charms,  that  are  bor- 
rowed   from    casual  associations.     Yet   I  am 


85 


persuaded,  that  the  musician's  art  does  not  af- 
ford to  scientifick  judges  those  rapturous  plea- 
sures it  excites  in  minds  which  an  unmanage- 
able degree  of  sensibility  subjugates  by  the 
power  of  accidental  and  local  impressions,  and 
renders  them  incapable  of  distinguishing  the 
refined  musick  of  the  opera,  from  the  simple 
but  rude  melodies  cf  nature.  I  was  acquaint- 
ed with  a  person  who  heard  with  perfect  indif- 
ference, the  most  celebrated  vocal  and  instru- 
mental performers  of  Italy,  who  yet  listened  as 
if  enchanted  to  the  simple  song  of  a  Venetian 
gondohere,  heard  under  a  moonlight  sky  along 
a  silent  canal,  bordered  with  ruined  palaces, 
once  the  gay  mansions  of  splendour  and  beauty. 
I  do  not  know  that  in  witnessing  the  most  bril- 
liant concert,  or  those  almost  supernatural  feats 
of  voice  which  are  exhibited  on  the  Italian 
stage,  I  was  ever  conscious  of  "  such  a  sa- 
cred and  home-felt  delight,"  as  I  have  experi- 
enced in  listening  to  the  sounds  of  a  midnight 
serenade,  which, 

Rose  like  a  steam  of  rich  distill'd  perfumes, 
And  stole  upon  the  air. 

Even  the  warbling  of  a   nightingale  in  a  tree, 
near  Petrarch's  villa,  has  more  powerfully  af- 


86 


fected  me  than  the  most  skilful  human  artist 
would  have  done,  by  bringing  to  my  recollec- 
tion these  beautiful  lines  of  the  poet, 

Qui  non  palaxzi,  non  teatro  o  loggia 
Ma'n  lor  vece  un  abete,  un  faggio  un  pino, 
Tra  l'erba  verde,  e'l  bel  monte  vicino, 
Onde  se  scende  poetando  e  poggia, 
Levan  di  terra  al  ciel  nostro  inteletto  : 
E'l  rosignuol  che  dolcemente  all'ombra 
Tutte  le  notte  si  lamenta  e  piange.^ 

The  attractions  which  musick  borrows  from 
poetry,  and  poetry  from  musick,  mislead  the 
mind  in  its  judgment,  respecting  the  distinct 
and  separate  merits  of  each.  How  many  indif- 
ferent airs  become  popular,  from  their  being  ori- 
ginally combined  with  the  beauties  of  poetry, 
and  how  often  do  we  see  puerility  of  sentiment 
and  poverty  of  invention,  set  off  by  the  merit  of 
musical  composition.  The  former,  I  think,  is 
a  general  case  in  England  and  America,  the  lat- 
ter is  daily  exemplified  in  Italy.  The  Italian 
operas,  with  a  few  exceptions,  as  dramatick 
compositions  are  not  only  tame  and  languid,  but 
contemptibly  puerile.  I  speak  not  here  of  the 
musical  dramas  of  Metastasio,  which  have  pre- 
tentions far  above  these.  But  of  that  vast  num- 
ber of  pieces  so  barren  of  sentiment  and  image- 

*  Son.  X. 


87 

ay,  which  are  continually  manufactured,  for  the 
opera.  How  gross  soever  are  the  faults  which 
the  poet  may  commit,  they  are  varnished  over 
by  the  art  of  the  musician.  Nay,  he  is  often 
necessitated  to  vitiate  his  language  and  deform 
his  style,  in  order  to  humour*  the  taste  of  a 
favourite  cantatrice.  For  this  reason,  in  propor- 
tion as  the  musick  of  Italy  prospers,  her  poetry 
declines,  and  the  greatness  of  the  former  may 
be  said  to  be  built  on  the  ruins  of  the  latter. 

Whether  poetry  and  musick  flourish  best  to- 
gether, or  whether  they  arrive  at  their  highest 
perfection,  when  cultivated  exclusively  of  each 

*  This  practice  is  finely  ridiculed  in  Madame  de 
Stael's  Corinne.  "  Vos  musiciens  fameux  disposent  en 
"  entier  de  vos  poetes ;  l'un  lui  declare  qu'il  ne  peut  pas 
«  chanter  s'il  n'a  dans  son  ariette  le  mot  felicit a  ;  le  te- 
"  nor  demande  la  tomba  ;  et  le  troisieme  chanteur  ne  peut 
"  faire  des  roulades  que  sur  le  mot  catene.  II  faut  que  le 
"  pauvre  poete  arrange  ces  gouts  divers  comme  il  le  peut 
u  avec  la  situation  dramatique." 

"  Est  il  e'tonnant  que  d'apres  ces  dispositions  univer- 
<{  selles,  on  n'ait  en  Italie  qu'un  mauvais  opera  avec  de 
"  belle  musique;  cela  doit  arriver  quand  on  est  passionne 
(t  pourl'une,  etqu'on  se  soucie  peude  1 'autre,  Voltaire  a 
"  dit  que  la  musique  chez  les  Italiens  avant  tue  la  tragadie 
"  et  il  a  dit  vrai.  Cours  de  Literature  par  J.  F.  La 
«  Harpe." 


88 


other,  is  a  question  of  some  nicety.  Modern 
Greece  affords  some  countenance  to  the  former 
opinion,  while  modern  Italy  furnishes  many 
plausible  arguments  in  support  of  the  latter. 

Since  the  days  of  Tasso  but  a  few  of  the 
bards  of  Italy,  have  inherited  any  portion  of 
the  fire  of  their  great  predecessors,  and  at 
the  present  day  her  breed  of  original  poets, 
appears  to  be  completely  extinct.  But  Italy 
is  to  day  the  land  of  enchanting  musick. 
This  may  be  ascribed  in  some  measure,  to 
the  harmonious  structure  of  the  Italian  lan- 
guage, of  which  Metastasio  said,  "  e  musica 
stessa."  It  is  unquestionably  the  most  mu* 
sical,  of  all  the  dialects  of  modern  Europe, 
and  even  where  the  mind  is  unable  to  annex 
any  determinate  and  precise  signification  to 
its  terms,  still  it  delights  the  ear  with  its 
melodious  accents,  and  like  the  sighs  of  the 
breeze  or  the  warbling  of  birds,  awakens 
feelings  analagous  to  those  inspired  by  the 
charms  of  nature.  Its  full  and  sonorous  ter- 
minations give  it  a  great  advantage  over  the 
French  language,  when  adapted  to  the  musi- 
cal accompaniments.  The  voice  in  length- 
ening out  the  mute  vowels  of  the  latter,  pro- 
duce a   barbarous  dissonance   compared  with 


those  round  and  harmonious  closes  in  which 
the  Italian  language  is  so  rich. 

The  Lyrical  drama  of  France,  in  ele- 
gance and  regularity  of  structure,  and  refine- 
ment of  diction,  surpasses  that  of  Italy.  A 
profound  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  the 
dramatick  art,  and  the  unrivalled  beauty  of 
their  ballet,  have  enabled  the  French  artists 
to  embellish  their  opera,  with  all  that  Apollo 
and  the  Graces  could  bestow.  Yet  with  all 
these  dazzling  allurements,  it  wearies  and  ex- 
hausts the  attention  of  the  spectator,*  while 
the  Opera  Seria  of  Italy  recreates  and  de- 
lights him. 

*  The  Grand  Opera  of  Paris,  although  somewhat 
•aricatured  in  the  following  description  of  Rousseau, 
is  even  at  the  present  day  not  wholly  free  from  some 
of  those  faults,  which  exposed  it  to  the  ridicule  of 
that  unsparing  satirist.  "  On  voit  les  actrices,  presque 
'*  en  convulsion,  arracher  avec  violence  ces  Glapissi- 
ct  mens  de  leurs  poumons  les  poings  fermes,  contre  la  poi- 
"  trine,  la  tete  pn  arriere  le  visage  enflammc,  les  vais- 
'*  seaux  gonfleS,  1'estomac  pantelant ;  on  ne  *ait  lequel 
"  est  le  plus  di«a»reahlement  affecte,  de  I 'ceil  ou  de 
t(  l'oreille,  leurs  efforts  font  autant  souffrir  ceux  que  les 
"  regardent,  que  leurs  chants,  ceux  qui  les  ecoutent ; 
«c  — concevez  que  cette  maniere  de  chanter  est  emplo- 
u  yee  pour  exprimer  ce  que  Quinault  a  jamais  -it  de  plus 

13 


90 


My  ears  also  greatly  deceive  me,  if  the 
musical  artists  of  the  former  would  endure 
a  comparison  with  those  of  the  latter.  An 
Italian  in  witnessing  the  deafening  applauses 
of  a  French  audience,  which  were,  however, 
not  sufficiently  loud  to  drown  the  voice  of 
the  actress  upon  the  stage,  exclaimed  "gR 
Francesi  hanno  le  orecchie  di  corno."  Those 
who  have  had  their  ears  wounded  by  the 
screaming  of  Madame  Branchu,  in  the  cha- 
racter of  Armide,  and  have  seen  Rinaldo  rou- 
sed from  his  voluptuous  dream,  by  the  sten- 
torian voice  of-  Dermis,  accompanied  with 
all  the  cymbals,  trumpets  and  kettle-drums 
of  the  orchestra,  must  have  regretted,  that 
any  thing  so  offensive,  should  mar  the  beauty 
of  a  performance,  which  in  some  measure 
vindicates,  with  regard  to  *  the  French  Opera, 
the  justness  of  these  beautiful  lines  of  Vol- 
taire, 

"  galant  et  de  plus  tendre.  Imagines  les  Muses,  les 
(*  Graces,  les  Amours,  Venus  meme  s'exprimant  a- 
"vec  cette  delicatesse  et  jugez  de  l'effet  ! — A  ces 
"  beaux  sons  aussi  justes  qu'ils  son'  doux  se  marient  tres 
"dignement  ceux  de  I'orchestre.  Figurez  vous  un  cha- 
*  riv'ari  sans  fin  d'instruments  sans  melodie ;  un  ron- 
"  ron  trainant  et  perpetuel  de  basse  ;  chose  la  plus  lu- 
"gubre,  la  plus  assommante  que  J'aie  entendue  de  ma 
"  vie,  et  qui  Je  n'ai  jamais  pu  supporter  une  demi- 
"  heure  sans  gagner  un  violent  mai  de  tete." 


91 


II  faut  se  rendre  a  ce  palais  magique, 
Oii  les  beaux  vers,   la  tlanse  et  la  musique, 
L'art  de  charmer  les  yeux  par  les  couleurs, 
L'art  plus  heureux  di  seduire  les  cceurs, 
De  cent  plaisirs  font  un  plaisir  unique. 

The  Italians  delight  in  a  musick  that  speaks 
more  to  the  heart  than  to  the  ear.  It  is  for  this 
reason,  that  a  person  of  any  musical  sensibili- 
ty, on  entering  one  of  their  theatres,  finds  him- 
self transported  into  an  ideal  world,  where, 

Fancy  dreams 
Of  sacred  fountains  and  Elysian  groveSj 
And  vales  of  bliss. 

Such  commonly  was  the  effect  produced  in  my 
own  mind  by  the  Italian  Opera,  and  such  I  be- 
lieve to  be  its  influence  generally  on  every 
mind,  not  wholly  insensible  to  the  charms  of 
musick,  or  which  is  not  excluded  from  its 
pleasures  by  some  defect  in  the  organ  of  ex- 
ternal  sensation. 

This  enervating  musick,  however,  when  not 
counteracted  by  the  influence  of  other  arts,  is  cal- 
culated to  produce  a  character  indolent  and  pas- 
sive, and  is  as  unfavorable  to  the  higher  powers 
of  genius,  as  to  the  great  moral  and  political  vir- 
tues. I  confess  when  I  saw  the  Venetians  thrown 


into  ccstacies  by  Veluti's  voice,  I  could  scarce- 
ly suppress   the  doubt,   that     this  population 
of  Sybarites  was  once  the  formidable  repub- 
lick,  which     resisted  the   league  of  Cambray. 
The  talents,  however,  of  this  Soprano,  are  won- 
derful, and  they  appeared  the  more  so  to  me, 
as  I  saw  him  in  competition  with    Tramezani, 
the  hero  of  the   London    opera,   and   who   is 
so  justly  celebrated  for  the  beauty  of  his   re- 
citation,  the   force   and  expression  of  his  in- 
tonations,  and   the  grace  and  majesty   of  his 
gestures.     I   saw    them    together   in  Mayer's 
beautiful    opera   of    Lodoiska,    and    although 
I  admired  the  grace  and   energy  of  Trame- 
zani's   acting ,    his   voice  appeared  to  me,  if 
I  may  be   allowed  the  expression,  to  be  cast 
into   the  shade  by  the  overpowering   brilliancy 
of  Veluti's.      As  to  Bassi,  the   rival  of  Cata- 
lan^  I    never  witnessed  an  exhibition  of  her 
powers,  or   heard  her     inimitable   tones,  that 
I  was  not  ready  to    exlaim  with  Milton's    Co* 
mus, 


Sure  something  holy  lodges  in  that  breast, 
And  with  these  raptures  moves  the  vocal  air* 
To  testify  his  hidden  residence. 


98 


How  potent  then  must  be  the  allurements 
of  the  Opera,  when  to  the  powers  of  these 
matchless  artists,  are  added  the  charm  of 
poetical  numbers,  and  the  magical  em- 
bellishments of  dress  and  scenick  decoration. 

"  In  the  Italian  opera,"  says  Sir  William 
Jones,  "  thive  beautiful  arts,  like  the  Graces 
"  united  in  dance,  are  together  exhibited  in 
"  a  state  of  excellence,  which  the  ancient 
"  world  have  not  surpassed,  and  probably 
"  could  not  have  equalled.  An  heroick  Ope- 
"  ra  of  Metastasio  set  by  Pergolesi,  or  by 
"  some  artist  of  his  incomparable  school,  and 
"  represented  at  Naples,  displays  at  once  the 
"  perfection  of  human  genius,  awakens  all 
"the  affections,  and  captivates  the  imagina- 
tion, at  the  same  instant,  through  all  the 
"  senses." 

In  spite,  however,  of  the  numberless  beauties 
of  the  Opera  Seria,  I  must  own  that  to  me  it  ap- 
pears less  suited  to  the  taste  of  a  mixed  audi- 
ence, than  the  Opera  Buffa  or  comick  opera. 
The  latter  is  seasoned  with  a  species  of  pleasan- 
try in  which  the  genius  of  the  Italian  people  ap- 
pears to  delight,  and  there  is  a  naive  and  humour- 
ous turn  of   expression  in  their  language,  the 


94 


pungency  of  which  is  heightened  and  improved 
by  a  corresponding  style  of  musical  composi- 
tion. The  Opera  Seria  never  stoops  below  a 
certain  dignity  and  elevation,  and  admits  of  no 
comick  incidents,  no  flashes  of  merriment  to  en- 
liven the  spectator.  The  former  unbends  the 
mind,  the  latter  often  overstrains  its  powers. 
The  genius  of  the  comick  opera,  like  Milton's 
Euphrosyne,  is  attended  with, 

Jest  and  youthful  jollity, 

With  quips  and  cranks  and  wanton  wiles, 

Nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles. 

The  muse  of  the  Opera  Seria,  is  the  pensive 
goddess,  described  by  the  same  poet, 

With  even  pace  and  musing  gait, 
With  looks  commercing  with  th .>  skies, 
Her  rapt  soul  sitting  in  her  eyes. 

As  the  ballet  may  be  considered  a  constitu- 
ent part  of  the  opera,  it  cannot  with  propriety  be 
overlooked  in  a  general  description  of  the  lat- 
ter. The  Italians  manifest  a  fondness  for  gro- 
tesque dancing  ;  and  feats  of  agility,  utterly  de- 
void of  elegance  and  grace,  are  even  in  their 
great  theatres,  tolerated  and  admired.  But  this 
indecent  style  of  dancing  is  entirely  excluded 


95 


from  their  serious  ballets,  throughout  which 
there  reigns  the  utmost  elegance  and  decorum. 
When  in  France,  I  was  struck  with  the  display 
of  taste  in  their  ballets,  nor  could  I  conceive  un- 
til then,  how  an  amusement  of  this  kind  could 
be  rendered  a  vehicle  of  so  much  pleasure  to  a 
cultivated  and  classical  mind.  The  great  pain- 
ters of  that  country  do  not  more  diligently  at- 
tend to  the  effect  of  national  costumes,  and  lo- 
cal scenery,  than  the  artists  who  arrange  and 
compose  their  ballets.  Such  as  have  experienced 
the  effect  of  the  dances  and  scenery  in  the  ope- 
ra of  Annide,  ?.nd  in  the  beautiful  ballet  of 
Psyche,  will  concur  with  me  in  opinion,  that  the 
French  have  left  but  little  room  for  any  further 
improvement  in  this  department  of  the  opera. 

In  Italy,  the  land  of  classick  beauty,  where 
the  fine  arts  still  flourish  in  their  highest  perfec- 
tion, we  may  expect  to  see  the  ballet  deco- 
rated in  a  style  equally  chaste  and  elegant ; 
and  accordingly  we  find  the  Italians,  rival- 
ing the  French  in  the  artifice  of  embellish- 
ment, and  certainly  surpassing  them  in  the 
management  of  the  scenes,  and  the  construc- 
tion of  theatrical  machinery.  The  change 
of  scene  is  accomplished  with  more  celerity 
in   the   Italian,    than   in   the   French   theatres. 


96 


The  wand  of  enchantment,  could  not  more 
instantaneously  convert  the  stage,  from  a 
sandy  desert  into  a  blooming  garden,  nor 
transform  the  scenery  of  winter,  into  sun- 
ny hills  and  verdant  groves.  A  stately 
palace  rises  in  less  time,  than  the  magick 
structures  of  Aladdin,  nor  can  the  poet's  fan- 
cy, "  glancing  from  earth  to  heaven,"  more 
rapidly  transport  the  mind,  from  the  realms 
of  Tartarus  to  the  regions  of  Olympus 
and  the  courts   of  Jupiter. 

Give  an  artist  of  this  country  a  subject 
from  history  or  fable,  and  he  clothes  it  with 
appropriate   scenery    and   embellishments. 

I  have  seen  the  invasion  of  Spain  by 
the  Moors,  and  the  fall  of  Roderigo,  the 
last  of  its  Gothiek  kings,  represented  in  an 
Italian  ballet.  Every  thing  was  pictu- 
resque, because  every  thing  was  characteris- 
tick  of  national  manners  ~nd  local  scenery. 
That  scene  in  particular,  where  Roderigo  be- 
holds in  a  prophetick  vision  his  own  defeat 
and  the  destinies  of  Spain,  had  a  striking 
and  beautiful  effect.  The  objects  of  the  vi- 
sion appeared  clothed  with  those  pale  and 
attenuated  colours,  in  which  the  events  of 
futurity,   may  be  supposed  to   present  them- 


97 

selves  to  the  eyes  of  the  audacious  mortal^ 
who  unveils  its/  secrets.  The  beautiful  form 
of  the  violated  daughter  of  Count  Julian, — 
the  enraged  father,  and  bands  of  Moorish  chiefs 
glided  like  phantoms  across  the  stage,  or 
passed  like  the  shadowy  kings  in  Banquo's  pos- 
terity before  the  eyes  of  Macbeth  in  the 
cave  of   the  weird   sisters. 

But  when  he  surveys  the  tinsel  decoration, 
the  paltry  artifice  and  sorry  mechanism,  by 
which  this  magnificent  effect  is  produced, 
the  spectator  is  almost  ashamed  to  own,  that 
he  has  felt  its  influence.  It  recalls  to  his  mind 
the  superb  tapestries  of  the  Gobelins,  where 
his  pleasure  is  certainly  diminished,  when 
he  is  placed  behind  the  canvass,  *and  exa- 
mines the  paltry  silk  threads,  and  discovers  the 
secret  artifice,  by  which  all  that  magick 
of  light  and  colours  is  produced,  which  fas- 
cinated his  eye. 

With  respect  to  the  merits  of  the  dan- 
cers on  the  Italian  stage,  it  would  be  dif- 
ficult, nay  almost  impossible,  for  any  feats 
of  grace  to  astonish  one,  who  had  seen  Gar~ 
del)  Bigottini  and  Vestris  of  the  French  ope- 
ra. Yet  an  unprejudiced  Parisian  would  find 
14 


.     98 

something  to  admire  in  the  ballerine  of  Italy. 
Their  look  and  movements  are  airy  and  ani- 
mated, and  their  attitudes  appear  to  have 
been  studied  in  musees,  and  academies, — to 
be  copied  from  the  Hebes,  and  Psyches  of  Ca- 
nova,  or  the  voluptuous  forms  of  Albaua, 
and   Corregio. 

The  opera,  such  as  I  have  described  it, 
if  it  occupied  a  rank  more  subordinate  in 
the  scale  of  intellectual  pleasures,  than  it 
does  in  Italy,  might  be  regarded  as  an  im- 
portant auxiliary  to  other  arts,  which  beau- 
tify and  polish  society,  without  enfeebling 
those  masculine  virtues,  which  form  the  so- 
lid basis  of  social  comfort  and  national  ho- 
nour. But  the  traveller,  if  he  has  frequent 
occasion  to  admire  the  unequalled  magni- 
ficence of  the  Italian  opera,  is  as  often  com- 
pelled to  lament,  that  among  this  people, 
the  drama,  a  much  nobler  species  of  enter- 
tainment, sinks  in  importance,  below  such 
theatrical  exhibitions  as  delight  the  senses 
and  the  fancy,  more  than  they  improve  the 
heart,  or  invigorate  the  genius.  This  re- 
mark, however,  is  to  be  understood  with 
some  limitations,  for  although  the  Italians 
have   figured  less  than  the   French  and  En- 


99 

glish,  in  the  higher  walks  of  dramatick  com- 
position, their  genius  evinces  no  want  of  vi- 
gour or  of  resources,  whenever  it  has  been  fair- 
ly directed  to  the  higher  kinds  of  tragedy  and 
comedy.  Some  general  observations  con- 
cerning: the  characteristick  merits  of  Metas- 
tasio,  Goldoni  and  Alfieri^  the  leading  drama- 
tick  poets  of  Italy,  will  serve  to  explain 
more  fully,  the  idea  I  have  conceived  of  its 
drama. 

Metastasio  is  justly  popular  among  his  own 
countrymen,  on  account  of  the  harmony  of 
his  versification,  the  purity  of  his  language, 
and  the  brilliancy  and  fertility  of  his  imagina- 
tion. But  the  first  excellence  of  a  dramatick 
poet  is,  the  talent  of  delineating  characters 
with  fidelity  and  spirit.  For  this  purpose  a  gene- 
ral knowledge  of  the  motives  of  human  con- 
duct is  not  sufficient.  The  outline  of  hu- 
man nature,  is  generallv  well  enough  pre- 
served in  Metastasio's  characters;  but  his 
heroes  are  all  after  the  same  pattern,  without 
any  mixture  of  the  frailty  of  man  ;  and  his 
tyrants  are  all  examples  of  pure  unadultera- 
ted guilt,  unstained  even  with  the  slightest 
colour  of  a  single  virtue.  They  rarely  or 
never  excite  interest,    or   move  the  affections 


100 


strongly. — Love  is  the  agent,  which  puts  all 
in  motion  in  the  dramas  of  this  writer.  But 
it  is  not  that  passion,  as  it  is  painted  in  the 
Othello,  and  in  the  Romeo  and  Juliet  of  Shaks- 
peare.  Metastasio's  images  and  sentiments, 
play  and  smile  around  the  heart,  and  excite 
a  gentle  tenderness,  but  they  never  penetrate 
its  inmost  recesses,  or  open  those  profound 
abysses  of  sorrow,  which  affright  the  soul. 
There  is  a  monotonous  languor  and  effeminacy, 
thrown  over  all  his  personages,  which  shows 
how  far  the  opera  had  already  proceeded, 
in  establishing  that  sickliness  of  taste,  which 
sacrifices  to  the  pleasures  of  harmony  and 
musical  rhythm,  depth  of  feeling  and  strength 
and  vigour  of  conception,  "  Ces  characteres 
tout  de  miel  et  de  lait,"*  are  not  calcula- 
ted td  alarm  men  into  reflection,  or  to  leave 
the  mind  under  those  solemn  and  affecting 
impressions,  so  salutary  to  the  heart,  and 
which  it  is  the   object  of  tragedy  to   produce. 

But  as  the  poet  of  the  opera,  Metastasio  is 
without  a  rival.  The  splendour  of  his  diction, 
the  unlaboured  melody  of  his  numbers,  the 
richness  of  his  imagination,  and  the  volup- 
tuous strain  of  his  sentiments,  elevate  him 
to  an  enviable  and  solitary  eminence,  among 

*  Sismondj. 


101 


the  lyrical  poets  of  his  own  country.  The 
beauty  of  his  sentiments,  and  the  charm  of 
his  expression,  heightened  by  the  sublime 
accords  of  Cimarosa  or  Pergolesi,  cannot 
have  been  unfelt  by  those  who  have  much 
frequented  the  operas  of  Italy,  where  some- 
times the  combined  power  of  musick  and  of 
poetry,  like  the  fabulous  songs  of  Circe  and 
the  Syrens,  will 

Take  the  prison'd  soul, 

And  lap  it  in  Elysium. 

Goldoni  is  the  prince  of  comick  poets  a- 
mong  the  Italians,  who  evince  for  his  name 
the  same  degree  of  homage,  that  the  French 
pay  to  the  genius  of  Molicre,  "  Gran  Gol- 
doni" is  the  style  in  which  they  mention  him. 
He  was,  perhaps,  the  first  who  attempted  to 
reform  the  rude  manners  and  improbable  in- 
cid  nts  of  the  Italian  stage.  The  Italians 
cl;«im  the  honour  of  possessing  a  national 
Dramatis  Persona'.  Having  created  the  cha- 
racters of  Harlequin,  Pantalone  and  Brighella, 
the  inventors  of  these  masks  bequeathed 
them  to  their  successors,  as  beings  possessed  of 
a  traditional  nature,  in  the  properties  of  which 
no  subseqnent  dramatist  has  ventured  to  make 


102 


any  innovation.  He  may  vary  their  situation, 
and  present  them  under  different  points  of 
view,  but  at  the  same  time,  he  can  make  no 
change  .  in  their  moral  and  intellectual  fea- 
tures, nor  divest  them  of  those  costumes, 
manners  and  habitudes,  by  which  they  have 
been  for  a  long  time  familiarised  to  the  Ita- 
lian people.  On  this  account  the  Italian  come- 
dy has  been  compared  repeatedly  to  the  game 
of  chess,  the  combinations  of  which  are  in- 
finitely diversified,  while  the  name,  power 
and  movements  of  the  several  pieces  that  com* 
pose  it,  always  remain  invariable.  Let  us 
suppose  that  the  ascendant  mind  of  Shaks- 
peare,  hid  rendered  the  introduction  of 
such  characters  as  Nym,  Bardolph,  Pistol, 
and  FalstafF  essential  to  English  comedy,  it 
would  then  afford  some  idea  of  the  popular 
taste,  and  the  inconveniencies  resulting  from 
it,  with  which  the  genius  of  Goldoni  was 
forced  to  contend. 

He  did  not,  indeed,  exclude  from  his  com- 
positions, these  traditional  characters  which 
had  then  got  possession  of  the  stage,  but 
he  attempted  to  set  bounds  to  that  liberty 
which  the  actors  before  exercised,  of  extem- 
porising their  parts.     He  could  not,  however, 


103 


wholly  suppress  this  abuse,  while  he  sanc- 
tioned, by  his  example,  the  buffooneries  of 
Harlequin  and  Pantalone,  who  still  claim 
and  exercise  the  privilege  of  interlarding  the 
prescribed  form  of  dialogue,  with  the  un- 
premeditated   effusions  of  their  own  rude  wit. 

An  inexhaustible  vein  of  humour  and 
wit,  appears  in  all  Goldom's  pieces,  although 
he  does  not  manage  it  with  the  art  and  ele- 
gance of  Moliere.  He  sometimes  paints  hu- 
man nature  with  a  charming  naivete,  but  he 
never  copies  real  life  with  the  boldness  and, 
felicity  of  Shakspeare,  or  exhibits  that  re- 
fined and  elegant  picture  of  living  manners, 
which  constitutes  the  charm  of  French  co- 
medy. He  portrays  the  characters  of  wo- 
men in  the  opposite  lights,  of  melancholy 
and  gjiety.  The  former  are  cold  sentimental- 
ists, obedient  to  the  commands  of  their  pa- 
rents, desirous  of  the  marriage  state,  that 
they  may  throw  off  the  yoke  of  an  authority, 
that  excludes  them  from  the  pleasures  of  the 
world.  The  latter,  on  the  contrary,  are  head- 
strong girls  of  lively  and  impetuous  feelings, 
prone  to  break  loose  from  the  restraints  of 
parental  government,    and  to  elope  with  a  lover. 


104 

But  neither  his  Rosaures  nor  his  Beatrices f 
are  much  distinguished  by  refinement  and 
delicacy  of  soul,  and  are  vulgar  and  spi- 
ritless, when  compared  with  the  Celia  and 
Rosalind  of    Shakspeare. 

He,  however,  who  proposes  to  study  the 
manners  of  Italy,  in  the  comedies  of  Gol- 
doni,  takes  for  his  guide  the  most  fallacious 
of  all  standards.  The  Italians,  properly  speak- 
ing, have  no  national  comedy  ;  nor  does  it 
appear  to  be  agreeable  to  their  ideas  and  pre- 
judices, to  penetrate  the  secret  springs  of  ac- 
tion, or  to  develope  the  human  character  up- 
on the  stage.  This  people,  who  are  such 
profound  masters  of  the  heart,  and  who  pos- 
sess, in  so  eminent  a  degree,  the  talent  of  pur- 
suing it  through  all  the  windings  of  policy, 
seem  to  consider  it  as  something  profane,  to 
unveii  their  knowledge  of  its  mysteries  in 
the  theatre. 

But  the  dramatick  poet,  whom  the  Italians 
regard  with  a  veneration,  bordering  upon  ido- 
latry, is  Aljieri.  The  powerful  allurements 
of  Metastasio's  poetry,  appears  to  have  won 
for  him  the  privilege  of  fixing  the  laws  of 
dramatick  composition.      He   assimilated  the 


105 


genius  of  tragedy  to  the  softness  aud  lan- 
guor of  pastoral  poetry,  nor  is  it  difficult 
to  conceive,  how  a  people  softened  by  in- 
dolence and  pleasure,  should  be  inclined  to 
prefer  brilliancy  of  imagination  and  volup- 
tuousness of  sentiment,  to  depth  of  teel- 
ing  and  energy  of  thought.  How  great,  then, 
is  the  merit  of  Alfieri,  who  combatted  suc- 
cessfully these  enchantments,  and  infused  in- 
to tragedy  her  ancient  spirit.  Since  his  time 
the  theatre  in  Italy  has  been  a  great  school 
of  virtue  and  moral  wisdom.  Melpomene 
no  longer  appears  with  her  majestick  fore- 
head, bound  with  chaplets  of  flowers  and 
with  the  voice  and  smiles  of  a  Siren. 
Alfieri  divested  her  of  these  meretricious 
charms,  restored  to  her  the  solemn  step,  the 
elevated  look,  the  lotty  accent,  and  clothed 
her  with  the  flowing  majesty  of  her  antique 
costume. 

But  with  all  his  merits,  Alfieri  does  not 
appear  to  have  seized  the  justest  concep- 
tion of  tragedy.  Solicitous  chiefly  to  avoid 
the  effeminacy  of  Metastasio,  he  has  gone 
to  the  opposite  extreme.  His  illustrations 
and  metaphors  are  employed  for  sake  of 
strength,    more  than    for  ornament,    and    his 

15 


106 


aversion  to  embellishment,  led  him  to  the  adop- 
tion of  a  style  harsh  and  unpoetical.  To 
borrow  an  illustration  from  painting,  all  his 
pieces  are  deficient  in  repose.  The  mind  is 
kept  too  continually  on  the  stretch-  This  tra- 
gical uniformity  renders  his  dramas,  in  spite 
of  their  great  beauties,  heavy  and  tedious.  I 
cannot  conceive  why  the  tragick  poet,  should 
not  be  permitted  occasionally,  to  step  aside 
to  regale  his  reader  with  a  description  or  an 
episode,  and  why  a  liberty  allowed  in  epick 
composition,  should  be  considered  inconsis- 
tent with  the  laws  of  the  drama.  In  the  se- 
venth book  of  Tasso's  Jerusalem  Delivered, 
after  a  series  of  sanguinary  battles  and  mar- 
tial exploits,  how  refreshing  to  the  imagina- 
tion, is  the  solitary  retreat  on  the  banks  of  the 
Jordan,  and  the  adventures  of  Erminia  and 
the  Shepherd,"among  scenes  of  pastoral  inno- 
cence and  simplicity.  "  A  beauty  of  this  kind 
in  Shakspeare,"  says  Dugald  Stewart,  "  has 
"  been  finely  remarked  by  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
"  nolds.  After  the  awful  scene,  in  which  Mac- 
"  beth  relates  to  his  wife,  the  particulars  in  his 
.  "  interview  with  the  weird  sisters,  and  where 
"the  design  is  conceived  of  accomplishing 
"  their  predictions,  that  very  night,  by  the  m-ur- 


107 


"  der  of  the  king,  how  grateful  is  the  sweet 
"and  tranquil  picture,  presented  to  the  fancy  in 
"  the  dialogue  between  the  king  and  Banquo, 
"  before  the  casde  gate :" 

This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat :  the  air 
Nimbly  and  swiftly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  general  sense. 

This  guest  of  summer, 
The  temple  haunting  martlet,  does  approve, 
By  his  lov'd  mansionary,  that  the  heaven's  breath 
Smells  wooingly  here.     No  jutty  friese, 
Buttress  nor  coigne  of  'vantage,  but  this  bird 
Hath  made  his  pendent  bed,  and  procreant  cradle  * 
"Where  they  most  breed  and  haunt,  I  have  observ'd, 
The  air  is  delicate. 

Although  terrour  and  sublimity  are  the  emo- 
tions, which  Shakspeare  is  most  successful  in 
raising,  yet  as  images  of  horrour,  when  the 
mind  dwells  on  them  too  long  become  painful, 
the  scene  from  time  is  shifted,  and  the  gloom 
of  the  imagination  occasionally  relieved,  by 
a  succession  of  gay  and  exhilirating  impres- 
sions. He  knew  every  secret  avenue  to  the 
heart,  which  he  alternately  pierces  with  the 
most  poignant  anguish,  melts  with  compassion 
or  convulses  with  laughter.  But  the  strain  of 
Alfieri  is  unvaried.  All  his  dramas  are  modelled 
after  rhe  same  pattern.  When  you  have  read 
his   conspiracy  of  the  Pazzi,    and  his  Phillip 


108 


the  second,  you  appear  to  have  exhausted  all 
the  treasures  of  his  fancy.  The  love  of  liberty 
with  which  some  of  his  pieces  are  so  strongly 
marked,  and  which  is  the  predominant  sentiment 
throughout  most  of  them,  have  acquired  for 
him  a  great  reputation  among  a  people,  who 
know  nothing  of  liberty  but  its  false  and  splen- 
did visions,  which  are  often  not  more  happily 
suited  to  the  purposes  of  the  dramatick  poet, 
than  they  are  repugnant  to  the  sober  realities 
of  life.  Nevertheless,  with  all  his  defects,  he 
has  erected  on  a  durable  basis,  a  monument 
over  which  unceasing  honours  are  destined  to 
accumulate,  and  the  name  of  Alfieri,  when  his 
works  shall  be  better  understood  abroad,  will 
share  with  Shakspeare,  Racine  and  Schiller, 
that  universal  admiration,  which  the  consent 
of  ages  and  the  voice  of  experience  confirms. 

The  change  which  the  moral  and  political 
principles  of  his  tragedies,  have  effected  in  the 
modes  of  feeling  and  thinking  throughout  Ita- 
ly, has  evidently  created  a  spirit,  which  its  pre- 
sent governments  must  be  fearful  of  provoking. 
They  discountenance,  as  far  as  they  can  with 
policy,  the  representation  of  those  pieces,  in 
which  the  principles  of  liberty  are  forcibly  in- 
culcated.    His  dramas,  however,  produce  their 


109 


most  powerful  impression  in  the  closet,  as  there 
are  few  declaimers  in  Italy,  capable  of  conceiv- 
ing the  depth  of  his  sentiments,  or  of  reci- 
ting his  verses,  so  as  to  mark  the  beauties  of 
his  forcible  and  sententious  style.  Yet  he  has 
invigorated  the  sentiments  of  the  Italian  people, 
and  infused  into  them  a  portion  of  their  anci- 
ent spirit.  The  bold  and  fearless  manner,  in 
which  they  quote  his  verses,  as  applicable  to 
themselves,  and  their  present  situation,  autho- 
rises me  to  believe,  that  Alfieri  has  helped  to 
sow  the  seeds  of  that  restlessness,  which  they 
discover  under  the  yoke  of  their  present  go- 
vernments, and  the  sources  of  which  must  be 
extinguished,  before  Italy  can  enjoy  a  lasting 
repose.  They  feel  and  act  as  if  nothing  was 
wanting,  but  a  resolute  chief,  to  lead  them  to 
the  possession  of  that  liberty,  which  is  the  ob- 
ject of  their  sighs. 

Gia  in  alto  stan  gli  ignudi  ferri ;  accenna, 
Accenna  sol  :  gia  nei  devoti  petti, 
Piombar  gli  vedi ;  e  a  liberta  dar  via.* 

No  poet  since  the  time  of  Lucan,  has  wor- 
shipped with  truer  devotion  at  the  shrine  of 
liberty,  or  painted  its  effects  on  the  heart,  with 
more  genuine  enthusiasm  than  Alfieri.     If  his 

*  Congiura  de'  Pazzi. 


110 


strains  shall  not  kindle  a  flame  to  consume  the 
structures  of  despotism,  they  will,  however, 
keep  alive  the  sacred  flame  on  the  altar  of  his 
country. 

The  genius  of  this  poet  is  truly  original.  In 
nothing  does  he  resemble  the  French  drama- 
tists, except  their  scrupulous  adherence  to  the 
unities.  He  does  not  Italianize  his  characters 
after  the  example  of  the  French  stage,  where 
the  heroes  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome,  are 
taught  to  mimick  the  airs  of  fashionable  ele- 
gance, and  to  speak  the  language  of  courtiers 
and  gallants. 

The  reduction  of  all  national  tastes  to  one 
standard,  would  give  rise  to  an  intellectual 
despotism,  under  which  the  nobler  powers 
of  genius  and  invention  would  languish  and 
decay.  In  point  of  correct  elegance,  the 
French  drama  excells  every  other.  The 
French  poet  observes,  with  a  scrupulous  ex- 
actness, all  those  dramatick  rules,  to  which 
a  long  acquiescence  on  the  part  of  the  learn- 
ed have  given  a  prescriptive  authority ;  and 
all  those  conventional  laws  of  taste,  to  which 
the  artificial  refinements  of  society  have  gi- 
ven birth.     The  genius  of  the  German  poet. 


Ill 

on  the  contrary,  is  "a  chartered  libertine," 
which  spurns  the  restraints  of  mediocrity,  and 
in  search  of  excellence  ventures  into  un- 
known regions  of  thought.  Goethe  and  Schil- 
ler, owe  the  magick  charm  of  their  dramatick 
compositions,  to  the  boldness  with  which  they 
have  ventured  beyond  the  prescribed  limits 
of  invention,  while  the  jejuneness  of  the 
French  theatre  proceeds  from  the  slavery 
of  established  rules,  which  narrows  the  range 
of  imagination,  and  impoverishes  the  sources 
of  invention.  The  feeble  impression  made 
by  the  dramas  of  Shakspeare,  when  adapted 
to  the  French  theatre,  convinces  me  that  it 
is  incapable  of  lending  ours  any  improve- 
ments. The  wild  graces  and  unborrowed 
charms  of  Shakspeare 's  muse,  are  no  longeu 
recognised,  when  decorated  with  the  artifi- 
cial embellishments  of  Parisian  taste.  How 
does  it  freeze  an  English  or  an  American 
auditor,  to  find  in  these  imitations  the  aw- 
ful apparitions  in  Hamlet  and  Macbeth,  and 
all  those  circumstances  of  matchless  grandeur, 
by  which  Shakspeare  gradually  prepares  the 
mind  for  their  appearance  systematically  sup- 
pressed, or  narrated  in  a  strain  of  pompous 
and  frigid  declamation  ;  and  to  see  the  strength 
and    harmony  of  Otway's  verse   sacrificed  to 


112 


poetical  exactness,  and  his  impetuous  tor- 
rent of  overbearing  eloquence,  taught  to  flow 
in  Alexandrine  lines,  and  subjected  to  the 
inexorable  laws  of  French  prosody.  As  un- 
willing am  I  that  our  dramatick  system  should 
be  forced  into  conformity  with  that  of  Ita- 
ly. The  "  wood  notes  wild"  of  Shakspeare 
are  far  more  grateful  to  my  taste,  than  all 
the  dazzling  imagery  of  Metastasio,  or  the 
studied  sententiousness  and  sentimental  pomp 
of  Alfieri. 

I  have  dwelt  the  longer  on  the  subject  of 
the  Italian  drama,  as  it  in  some  measure  af- 
fords a  standard  for  estimating  the  literary 
taste,  and  moral  genius  of  the  nation,  and 
the  same  reason  may  be  assigned  for  the  pre- 
ceding remarks,  on  the  disproportionate 
magnificence  of  the  opera,  which  has  a  suf- 
ficient foundation  in  general  opinions  and 
manners,  to  throw  some  light  on  the  moral 
and  intellectual  character  of  the  Italians. 

From  what  I  have  already  said  it  may  be 
inferred,  that  the  manners  of  Trieste  and 
those  of  the  Italian  cities,  do  not  essentially 
differ.  Its  annexation,  indeed,  to  Austria,  should 
its  present  political  relations  prove  permanent, 


113 

may  in  the  course  of  time,  lead  to  the  in- 
troduction generally  of  German  manners  and 
German  opinions ;  but  in  all  other  respects 
at  present,  Trieste  is  an  Italian  city.  Like 
all  the  other  ports  of  the  Adriatick,  it  con- 
tains a  very  mixed  population,  and  displays  a 
great  variety  of  costumes.  This  intermixture 
of  Asiaticks,  Africans  and  Europeans,  is 
not  unpleasing  to  a  mind,  conversant  with 
the  Romances  of  the  East,  to  which  this  infu- 
sion of  foreign  dresses  and  manners  suggests 
pictures  that  have  amused  the  fancy  of  child- 
hood. Commerce  has  here  brought  together 
the  sun-burnt  Saracen,  and  the  fair  complex- 
ioned  sons  of  the  north.  It  is  not  unusual 
to  see  a  rich  Constantinopolitan  merchant  at- 
tended by  a  black  page,  attired  in  cash- 
mere and  muslin,  mixing  with  the  cheerful 
concourse,  which  in  the  evening  crowd  the 
haunts  of  fashion,  and  many  "a  malignant 
and  turbaned  Turk,"  is  compelled  to  acknow- 
ledge the  superiour  charms  of  European  socie- 
ty, and  to  prefer  to  the  insipidity  of  the  ensla- 
ved beauties  of  the  East,  the  social  vir- 
tues and  intellectual  graces,  which  ennoble  the 
sex  in  those  countries,  over  which  Christi- 
anity sheds  its  moral   influence. 

16 


114 


Some  of  the  villages  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Trieste,  are  inhabited  by  a  race  of 
peasants,  whose  language  differs  radically 
from  that  of  Italy,  and  has  no  affinity  with 
the  kindred  dialects  of  the  adjacent  provin- 
ces. Their  fair  complexions  and  robust 
forms,  too,  are  proofs  of  a  descent  from  a 
more  northern  nation.  In  Trieste  they  are 
called  Craniolins.  The  dress  of  the  wo- 
men is  peculiar.  Their  heads  are  tied  round 
with  a  white  cambrick  or  linen  handker- 
chief, with  the  corners  thrown  back  on  the 
shoulders.  They  wear  a  short  tight  jacket, 
that  displays  to  advantage  an  elegant  waist 
and  pliant  form,  but  the  effect  of  which  is 
spoiled  by  the  heavy  massive  drapery,  that 
falls  from  it  as  far  as  the  middle  of  the  leg. 
Scarlet  stockings,  which  they  take  care  to 
wrinkle  about  the  ankle,  terminated  by  broad 
round  shoes  with  large  buckles  in  them, 
conceal  the  beautifully  turned  ankle  and  slen- 
der foot,  indicated  by  the  elastick  step  and 
buxom  air  of  many  of  these  mountain  nymphs. 

The  constant  companion  of  these  poor 
people,  is  a  small  shaggy  species  of  ass, 
which  is  often  seen  before  them,  mounting 
Tvith    patient    steps     the    steep    and    rugged 


115 


paths  of  the  mountains,  and  carrying  in  its 
panniers,  the  whole  stock  of  wealth  employ- 
ed in  their  humble  traffick.  On  Sundays 
they  flock  in  their  best  attire  to  the  church- 
es of  Trieste,  and  spend  their  evening  at 
the  villages  of  Zauli,  and  St.  Servelo.  Their  fa- 
vourite exercise  is  a  dance,  which  resembles 
more  the  brisk  and  vigorous  measures  of 
the  ancient  Pyrrhick,  than  the  mazy  and  ine- 
briating movements  of   the    German  waltzes. 

I  have  mentioned,  incidently,  a  general 
expectation  at  Trieste,  of  a  visit  from  the 
Emperour  Francis.  The  governor  of  the 
city  was  solicitous  that  this  event  should 
be  marked  on  the  part  of  the  inhabitants, 
with  the  strongest  expressions  of  good  faith 
and  devotion  to  their  sovereign.  T'ie  Ita- 
lians, though  insincere  in  their  loyalty,  were 
induced  from  motives  of  policy  to  concur 
in  a  measure  which  was  likely  to  have  im- 
portant consequences  of  a  publick  nature.* 
He    was  met  at    a   distance    from    the    city 

*  At  this  time  there  was  a  hope  prevalent  among 
the  Trestians,  that  the  cabinet  of  Vienna  would 
carry  into  effect  the  long  agitated  plan  of  concen- 
trating   the    commerce  of   the    Empire  at    Trieste. 


116 


by  the  publick  functionaries,  and  escorted 
through  the  corso  or  principal  street,  along 
the  sides  of  which  the  military  were  drawn 
up.  The  martial  musick  of  the  German 
regiments,  which  is  so  noble,  and  the  inces- 
sant firing  from  the  fort  and  harbour,  gave 
no  small  degree  of  solemnity  to  this  event. 
A  thousand  white  handkerchiefs  waved  by 
the  fair  hands  of  ladies,  streamed  from  the 
windows  under  which  he  passed,  and  the 
multitude  shouted  viva  nostro  sovrano.  The 
front  of  the  exchange  which  terminate^ 
the  corso,  was  decorated'  with  a  large  trans- 
parent  painting  representing  the  mixed 
population  of  Trieste,  with  wreaths,  and 
presents  in  their  hands,  which  they  offered 
as  a  testimony  of  their  gratitude  and  loyal- 
ty to  the  Emperour.  Between  the  imperial 
residence  and  the  theatre,  a  beautiful  tri- 
umphal arch  was  constructed,  bearing  this 
inscription. 

Cari  patriae   patri  adventum 
Lceti  celebrant  Tergestini.  * 

Francis  witnessed  all    these  expressions  of 
^eal    to   his  house,    with  the    air  of    a   man 

*  Tergeslum    was    the    ancient    name  of  Trieste. 


117 


whose    ruling    passion   was  not  that  of  em- 
pire  and   command.     He   returned   the  vivas 
of   the    populace   by   a    quick  and  awkward 
inclination    of   his    head,    and  a     mechanical 
movement    of  his    hand   to    his    hat.     As  I 
saw    him     descend     from    his    carriage,    his 
countenance  and  person   impressed   me    with 
the   idea    of  a    plain    artless    man,    marked 
with    none     of   the    terrifick    or    captivating 
traits  of    superiour  genius.      None    of  those 
royal  and  martial  graces  which  played  around 
the   person   of    Buonaparte,  or  of   Louis  the 
fourteenth.     His  equipage  was  plain,  he  wore  a 
uniform  of  grey  blue,  and  was  decorated  with 
the  golden  fleece  and  the  orders  of  St.  Stephen, 
and  Maria  Theresa.  His  hat  was  three  cornered 
and  ornamented  with  a  bunch  of  heron's  feathers. 
He  was  remarkably  condescending  and   fami- 
liar with  the   persons  who    were  presented   to 
him.      An    American  gentleman  who  had  an 
interview  of  half  an  hour  with  him  at  Vien- 
na,   in   which   he    spoke    with  much  interest 
on  the  subject  of  American   commerce,    told 
me  that   at    the  end    of  the  conversation,  he 
thanked  him  with  an  air    of   great    cordiality 
and  politeness,    for  the  information  he  had  so 
kindly   communicated.      He   partook  but   lit- 
tle in  the  publick   amusements,  that  had  been 


118 


got  up  for  his  entertainment.  The  provin- 
cial noblesse  and  the  merchants  of  Trieste, 
were  candidates  for  his  smiles;  the  former 
endeavouring  with  "  the  faded  remains  of  their 
courtly  graces,"  to  withdraw  his  attention 
from  the  latter,  whose  immense  riches  ob- 
scured the  boast  of  heraldry.  At  the  pub- 
lick  balls  and  conversazioni,  the  ladies  both 
noble  and  bourgeois,  exerted  all  the  power 
of  their  wit  and  charms,  to  draw  from  him 
a  compliment,  or  to  ensnare  some  of  the 
young  officers  in  his  train,  the  magick  lus- 
tre of  wose  stars  and  military  decora- 
tions, played  among  crowds  of  beauty,  and 
overpowered  many  a  bright  eye  and  fascinat- 
ed many  an  aspiring  heart.  These  fetes  were 
concluded  by  a  magnificent  illumination,  of 
which  it  is  scarcely  too  bold  an  expression  to 
say,  that  it  restored  day  light  to  the  streets  of 
Trieste.  The  masts  and  rigging  of  the  ships 
anchored  in  the  Adriatick  hung  with  innume- 
merable  lamps,  looked  like  another  hemis- 
phere  of  constellations    rising   from   the   sea. 

The  mind  on  such  occasions,  is  prone 
to  indulge  in  reflections  on  the  instability  of 
human  greatness,  and  never  did  I  feel  more 
disposed   to  moralize,   on  the  eventful  scenes 


119 


of  the  great  political  drama,  from  the  stu- 
pefaction and  horrour  of  whose  bloody  ca- 
tastrophe, mankind  have  scarcely  yet  recovered. 
To  compare  great  things  with  small,  I  had 
witnessed  at  Paris  similar  honours  paid  to 
Napoleon,  when  in  the  height  of  his  prospe- 
rity, and  I  remembered  him  in  the  decline 
of  his  glory,  in  all  the  array  of  imperial  pa- 
geantry passing  down  the  avenue  of  the  Thu- 
illieres,  and  entering  the  palace  of  the  corps 
Legislatify  not  like  a  fugitive  but  like  a  tri- 
umphant conquerour,  demanding  of  that  bo- 
dy its  assent  to  another  conscription  to  res- 
cue his  laurels  from  disgrace.  When  I  heard 
him  impute  the  disasters  of  his  army  not  to 
human  foes,  but  to  the  hostility  of  the  ele- 
ments, there  was  an  imposing  grandeur  in 
the  peculiarity  of  his  situation,  which  ap- 
peared to  give  the  stamp  of  veracity  to  his 
assertion.  He  alone  of  all  the  nation  seemed 
to  stand  erect  at  that  desperate  crisis,  anima- 
ting her  to  another  contest,  transfusing  into 
her  his  own  inextinguishable  love  of  glory, 
and  upholding  by  the  power  of  his  genius 
the  mighty  fabrick  of  empire,  which  was  then 
tottering  to  its  base,  and  ready  to  crush 
him    with  its  ruins. 


120 


But  to  return  to  Trieste.  On  the  shores 
of  the  Adriatick  lived  Madame  Bacciochi, 
whose  hands  had  swayed  the  sceptre  of  Tus- 
cany, but  who  now  exercised  within  the  sphere 
of  her  household,  those  princely  airs  and  com- 
manding talents,  by  which  she  overawed  the 
degenerate  Florentines  in  the  proud  palace 
of  the  Medici — Here  I  had  seen  Maria  Louisa 
fallen  from  the  most  commanding  station  to 
which  ever  woman  had  been  lifted  up,  and 
content  now  to  exchange  with  fortune  for 
the  empire  of  the  world,  the  humble  princi- 
pality of  Parma.  She  was  dressed  in  a  plain 
surtout  of  black  silk,  and  wore  on  her  head 
a  simple  straw  hat,  tied  down  under  her 
chin  with  a  muslin  handkerchief.  She  took 
the  arm  of  the  Count  de  Neipperg,  and  pas- 
sed through  the  streets  of  Trieste,  where 
the  rabble  gazed  upon  her  with  idle  and  in- 
decent curiosity.  How  different  from  her 
whom  I  had  seen  at  the  Thuilleries,  enthron- 
ed with  Napoleon  and  dispensing  smiles  to 
admiring  crowds,  "  decorating  and  cheering 
"  the  elevated  sphere  she  just  began  to  move 
"  in,  glittering  like  the  morning  star  full  of 
"  life,  of  splendour   and    joy." 

The  Emperour    arrived   on   the   thirtieth 
of    April.      It  is   an   oid   custom  at   Trieste 


121 


to  celebrate  the  first  day  of  May.  In  a  beau- 
tiful wood  that  clothes  the  side  of  a  hill, 
which  commands  a  prospect  of  a  delightful 
valley  terminated  by  the  Adriatick,  the 
beauty  and  fashion  of  Trieste  convened  at 
an  early  hour,  to  celebrate  the  first  day  of 
the  most  beautiful  month  of  the  year.  The 
morning  was  remarkably  fine.  A  light  breeze 
blew  from  the  sea,  gathering  in  its  progress 
up  the  valley,  the  odours  of  blooming  gar- 
dens. The  company  were  canopied  with 
boughs,  from  which  occasionally  they  pluck- 
ed a  green  wreath  to  adorn  their  persons,  as 
a  testimonial  of  their  having  assisted  at  the 
celebration  of  these  rural  honours.  The  la- 
dies were  seated  at  tables  and  served  with 
coffee  and  other  refreshments  by  their  cava- 
lieri  serventi,  whose  devotion  to  their  fair 
inamorate,  appeared  heightened  by  the  beau- 
ty of  a  season,  sacred  to  loves.  Among 
the  branches  that  shaded  them,  the  birds 
seemed  more  than  usually  gay  and  joined 
their  voices  to  the  musick,  that  played  at 
intervals  among  the  trees,  and  the  soft  con- 
versation of  the   ladies, 

E  concorde  degli  augelli  il  coro, 

Q  lasi  approvando, 

Ogni  animal  d'amor  si  riconsiglia-. 
17 


122 

Par  che  la  dura  qufircia,  e  casto  alloru, 
£  tu'ta  la  frondosa  ampia  famiglia ; 
Par  che  la  terra,  e  Pacqua  e  formi  e  spiri, 
Dolcissimi  d'amor  sensi,  e  sospiri.* 

The  next  day  it  was  publickly  announced 
that  the  Emperour  would  visit  the  grotto  of 
Corgndle,  one  of  the  greatest  natural  curi- 
osities in  the  world.  The  road  leading  to  it 
passes  over  mount  Polisso,  from  which  there 
is  a  magnificent  view  of  the  Adriatick.  The 
grotto  itself  is  situated  near  the  village  of 
Corgnale,  burrounded  by  the  wild  and  savage 
mountains  of  Idria.  Although  when  we  vi- 
sited it,  the  season  was  far  advanced  in  the 
vallies  below,  the  cold  tramontanes  that  oc- 
casionally swept  by  us,  reminded  us  thnt 
in  these  elevated  regions,  the  iEolus  of  the 
Alps  had  not  yet  resigned  his  dominion  to 
the  vernal  gales.  Here  and  there  the  primrose 
and  the  violet,  looked  out  irom  beneath  the 
shelter  of  a  projecting  rock,  and  a  nightin- 
gale that  was  trying  its  first  notes  in  the  bran- 
ches of  a  leafless  shrubbery,  seemed  to  chide 
the  tardiness  of  the   spring. 

The   walk  to  the    grotto  prepared   us  for 
the   sight  of  something  marvellous.     On   one 

*  Tasso. 


123 

side  of  the  road  was  to  be  seen  an  extensive 
plain,  covered  with  stones  resembling  mas- 
ses  of  petrified   lava;    on  the  other  appeared 

Rocks  piled  on  rocks  as  if  by  magick  spell, 

while  the  distant  horizon  presented  an  Alpine 
scene  of  the  wildest  and  most  awful  grandeur. 
As  we  approached  its  entrance,  we  found  it 
occupied  by  a  band  of  peasants  with  tor- 
ches in  their  hands,  who  advanced  to  offer 
themselves  as  guides,  and  whose  melancho- 
ly and  lugubrious  visages,  appeared  to  reflect 
in  all  its  sullen  wildness  the  surrounding  sce- 
nery. As  I  looked  upon  this  group,  it  re- 
minded me  of  the  melancholy  forms,  which 
Virgil  has  stationed  in  the  passage  to  the 
infernal  regions, 

Et  metus,  et  malesuada  fames,  ac  turpis  egestas, 
Terribiles  visu  formse. 

The  interiour  of  the  grotto  is  truly  a  mas- 
terpiece of  nature.  She  appears  in  these  dark 
recesses  to  have  indulged  a  sullen  sport,  in 
mimicking  the  powers  of  art,  and  to  have 
sketched    in    derision    a  rude    caricature    of 


124 


some  of  her  rival's  grandest  performances. 
Its  entrance  is  divided  by  what  appears 
when  viewed  from  the  inside,  to  he  a  massy 
dorick  pillar  supporting  two  light  and  grace- 
ful arches.  As  you  advance  into  this  suite 
of  subterranean  apartments,  greater  wonders 
unfold  themselves.  One  exhibits  an  imita- 
tion of  the  clustered  pillars  and  fretted  del- 
ing of  a  Gothick  church  ;  another  the  col- 
lossal  sculpture  of  Egypt,  its  deformed  and 
gijrantick  caryatides,  its  obelisks  and  sphinxes. 
For  the  accommodation  of  the  Emperour, 
this  immense  chain  of  caverns  was  magnifi- 
cently illuminated,  and  discovered  secrets  hi- 
therto unexplored.  Temporary  bridges  were 
thrown  across  deep  chasms,  and  afforded 
a  passage  to  parts  before  inaccessible.  Flights 
of  stairs  led  to  its  lofty  galleries,  or  descended 
into  its  profoundest  abysses.  The  blaze  of 
innumerable  lamps  gave  to  the  whole  an  ap- 
pearance truly  magical,  shewing  in  profile  the 
ornaments  of  its  fairy  architecture,  or  open- 
ing to  view  a  row  of  stalactite  columns  of 
the  most  brilliant  whiteness,  which  looked 
like  a  palace  of  enchantment,  adorned  with 
ivory  pillars  incrustated  with  diamonds  and 
rubies. 


125 


As  the  season  advanced,  the  snows  on  the 
distant  mountains  began  to  diminish,  the  bare 
summits  of  the  neighbouring  hills  became  vi- 
sible, and  the  green  vallies  at  their  feet  looked 
gay  with  the  rays  of  an  Italian  sun.  These 
hills  so  bare  of  verdure,  except  where  they  be- 
gin to  sweep  into  the  vallies,  terminate  in  gen- 
tle slopes  adorned  with  beautiful  country-hous- 
es and  gardens.  In  tracing  the  windings  of 
the  intermediate  vallies,  the  eye  of  the  specta- 
tor is  regaled  by  the  most  charming  scenes  of 
cultivation.  Here  the  olive,  the  vine  and  the 
fig,  sheltered  from  the  cold  tramontane  wind, 
ripen  to  perfection.  A  person  stationed  on 
one  of  the  summits  of  these  commanding  hills, 
enjoys  a  diversity  of  noble  prospects — the  bold 
capes  that  advance  into  the  sea,  adorned  the 
one  with  a  castle,  the  other  with  a  city — the 
site  of  ancient  Aquileia,  on  which  the  eye  is 
just  able  to  discern  the  spire  of  the  miserable 
village  that  retains  its  name — beyond  these,  the 
proud  Alps  covered  with  snow — near  at  hand, 
the  villages  of  St.  Servelo  and  Zauli,  and  at 
his  feet  the  busy  port  of  Trieste,  extending  be- 
fore which  is  seen  the  blue  expanse  of  the 
Adriatick,  with  vessels  continually  appearing 
and  disappearing  on  its  surface. 


126 


The  country  that  lies  beyond  these  hills,  is 
rocky,  and  has  an  air  of  savage  desolation.  I 
have  felt  the  gloom  of  solitude  in  all  its  severity, 
while  traversing  this  region  of  stones.  The  in- 
habitants are  meagre  and  sallow,  and  their 
countenance  descriptive  of  the  sterile  spot  of 
earth,  from  which  they  draw  their  subsistence. 
Their  villages  are  cheerless,  and  the  want  of 
comfort  apparent  in  their  habitations,  casts  a 
double  shade  of  melancholy  over  a  country, 
which  nature  has  sufficiently  characterized  by 
the  wildest  features  of  rudeness  and  deformity. 
Within  this  territory,  which  is  so  inauspiciously 
marked,  there  are,  however,  places  ennobled  by 
that  savage  species  of  grandeur,  which  rouses 
"a  noble  horrour  in  the  soul."  Masses  of 
rock  hurled  confusedly  together,  and  huge 
mounds  of  stone  seem  to  be  the  work  of  su- 
perhuman agents,  and  look  as  if  this  desolated 
spot  had  been  the  seat  of  the  warfare  of  giants. 

The  road  from  Trieste  to  Optschina,  re- 
quires in  all  cases  of  a  light  carriage  an  addi- 
tional horse  or  two,  and  greatly  increases  the 
expense  of  the  transportation  of  heavy  goods 
into  the  interiourofthe  Empire.  Joseph  the  se- 
cond is  reported  to  have  said,  that  a  yoke  of  oxen, 
would  have  discovered  here  a  better  road  than 


127 

his  engineers.  Among  the  many  noble  im- 
provements left  unfinished  in  this  quarter  of 
Europe,  by  the  late  French  government,  is  the 
plan  of  an  admirable  road,  conducted  by  ea- 
sy ascents  over  this  chain  of  hills,  which  could 
not  have  failed  to  add  greatly  to  the  prosperity 
of  Trieste,  by  considerably  diminishing  the  ob- 
stacle of  an  expensive  land  carriage,  into  Ita- 
ly and  Germany. 

The  road  to  Montefalcone,  is  not  calcu- 
lated to  give  a  traveller  any  foretaste  of  that 
beauty  and  fertility,  which  he  has  been  accustom- 
ed to  associate  with  the  idea  of  Italy.  But  leav- 
ing Montefalcone,  the  country  improves  in  ap- 
pearance, and  at  Goritzia,  the  soil  produces  so 
abundantly,  as  to  give  to  the  plain  in  which  it 
is  situated,  the  appearance  of  an  extensive  gar- 
den. To  the  north  of  Goritzia  rises  a  ridge  of 
hills,  upon  the  southern  declivities  of  which,  is 
cultivated  the  picolit  grape,  from  which  a  rich 
and  exquisite  wine  is  made,  rivalling  the  flavour 
of  the  boasted  tokay  of  Hungary.  These 
hills  render  the  environs  of  Goritzia,  remarks 
bly  picturesque.  From  their  summits  descends 
the  Isonzo,  whose  limpid  waters  rolled  over  a 
gravelly  bed,  flow  through  a  country  whose  natu- 
ral fertility,  aided  by  the  power  of  cultivation, 


128 


gives  to  the  banks  of  this  beautiful  stream,  air 
appearance  that  forms  a  bright  contrast  with  that 
part  of  the  province  of  Istria,  which  lies  be- 
tween Trieste  and  Montefalcone. 

The  dialect  of  Friuli  is  harsh  and  unmusi- 
cal. It  is  the  Italian  divested  of  its  vowel  ter- 
minations, and  corrupted  by  a  foreign  in- 
fusion of  words,  from  the  Illyrian  and  other 
languages.  At  Goritzia,  the  higher,  as  well 
as  the  lower  classes,  speak  this  patois,  and  pride 
themselves  on  speaking  it  fluently,  and  I  have 
seen  a  lady,  who,  after  conversing  for  some 
time  in  pure  and  elegant  Tuscan,  turn  to  her 
familiar  acquaintance,  and  discourse  readily  in 
the  Furlana  dialect. 

The  neighbouring  mountains  are  inhabited, 
by  a  race  of  peasants,  different  from  those  who 
live  on  the  plains.  A  nobleman  who  has  ex- 
tensive forges  and  saw-mills  on  the  Isonzo,  and 
who  employs  a  number  of  them  in  cutting 
wood,  gave  me  this  description  of  the  simple 
manners  of  these  hardy  mountaineers.  Their 
food  v&  polenta,  or  the  flour  of  indian  corn  boil- 
ed, which  three  times  a  day,  is  measured  out  to 
them  from  a  large  vessel.  Although  the  sides 
of  their  hills  produces  the  most  delicious  wine, 


129 

they  scarcely  know  this  luxury  ;  yet  breathing 
the  pure  air  of  the  mountain,  subsisting  on  the 
most  simple  diet,  and  employed  in  the  invigo- 
rating exercise  of  wielding  the  axe,  they  have 
for  many  generations  retained  the  lofty  stature, 
symmetry  of  limbs,  and  fine  muscular  propor- 
tions, which  constitute  the  perfection  of  the 
human  form. 

Goritzia  boasts  a  very  pure  and  ancient  nobi- 
lity ;  their  palaces  are  magnificent,  and  their 
style  of  living  elegant.  Here  were  residing  in 
splendid  exile,  the  Duke  and  Dutchess  of  Bas- 
sano ;  the  Duke  cherishing  the  hope,  that  his 
services  will  be  required  by  the  Bourbons,  and 
his  fair  Dutchess,  lamenting  the  loss  of  that 
admiration  her  charms  inspired  at  the  Thuil- 
leries,  where  she  shone  a  star  of  the  first  mag- 
nitude, in  that  galaxy  of  beauty,  which  sur- 
rounded the  Empress  of  France. 

The  roads  from  Udine  to  Palma  Nouva,  and 
from  thence  to  Venice,  are  the  work  principal- 
ly of  the  late  French  government,  and  merit 
the  highest  encomiums.  They  are  not  likely 
to  be  maintained  in  their  original  condition 
by  the  Austrian  government,  whose  parsi- 
mony and  neglect  with  regard  to  works  of 
18 


130 


publick  utility  in  the  provinces  recently  an- 
nexed  to  the  Empire,  have  already  made  it 
odious  to  the  people.  I  was  informed  that 
the  passage  of  the  Simplon  was  considerably 
out  of  repair,  and  that  it  was  extremely 
probable,  this  masterpiece  of  labour  and 
skill,  wTould  be  suffered  to  go  to  ruin. 
Austria  feels  no  interest  in  facilitating  the  in- 
tercourse between  Italy  and  France,  and  it 
does  not  enter  into  the  views  and  policy  of 
the  present  French  government,  to  contribute 
to  the  preservation  of  a  work,  which  the  am- 
bition of  conquest   produced, 

Palma  Nouva  is  a  fortress  situated  on  the 
frontiers  of  the  Venetian  Lombardy.  It  is 
rendered  interesting  chiefly  by  its  connexion 
with  the  hostile  operations  of  the  French,  du- 
ring the  late  war  in  this  quarter  of  Italy.  Its 
magnificent  bastions,  draw-bridges  and  ram- 
parts, excite  the  admiration  of  the  traveller, 
while  the  masterly  skill  displayed  in  the  con- 
struction of  this  powerful  apparatus  of  defen- 
sive war,  affords  the  scientifick  engineer,  an 
illustration  of  almost  every  principle  of  his 
art. 

Leaving  Palma  Nouva  behind,  and  pursu- 
ing the  road   leading    directly   to   the  shores 


131 


of  the  Adriatick,  you  arrive  in  a  few  hours  at 
the    ruins  of    Ancient  Aquileia.       Mutilated 
columns    and    entablatures  of    great    beauty, 
sarcophagi  and  funeral  urns,  mounds  compos- 
ed  of   fragments   of  verd'  antico,     giallo  au- 
tico  serpentino  and  porphyry,  attest  the  beau- 
ty and  magnificence  of  the  city   that  fell  be- 
fore the  fury  of  Attila.     In  digging  below  the 
surface  of  the  ground,    a   flight   of  steps  and 
the  walls  of  a  large  edifice  have  been  discover- 
ed.    Stones   that  appear   to  have  suffered  the 
action  of  a  powerful  fire,  and  calcined  human 
bones  were  here  melancholy  evidences  of  the 
rage  of  barbarian  violence.     The  field  in  which 
this  ruin  was  discovered  is  overspread  with  frag- 
ments of  brick  and   cement,  and  I  have  little 
doubt  but  that  the  treasures   of  art  sepulchred 
beneath  this  soil,   would  well  repay  the  expense 
and    trouble  of   removing  it.      I  inquired   of 
the  commissary  of  police  why  an  undertaking 
which  promised   to  enrich  the    fine  arts  with 
such   important  accessions,  was   not  prosecut- 
ed with  greater  vigour.     He  replied  that  a  small 
fund   had   been  appropriated     to  this    purpose 
by  the  Emperour,  but  that  this  was  now  ex- 
hausted,    and  that  the  researches   at   Aquileia 
were    discontinued  in  consequence  of  the  to- 
tal oblivion    of  them  at  Vienna.      Had  other 


132 


monarchs  paid  the  same  degree  of  attention 
to  the  interests  of  the  fine  arts,  the  subter- 
ranean wonders  of  Herculaneum  and  Pom_ 
peii  would  never  have  seen  the  light. 

Many  of  the  peasants  carry  about  them 
ancient  cameos  and  coins  of  great  beauty, 
which  they  exhibit  only  to  strangers,  as  the 
laws  of  treasure-trove  are  here  rigorously  en- 
forced. The  commissary  shewed  me  a  valua- 
ble collection  of  silver  coins,  and  one  as  old 
as  the  time  of  Lentulus,  a  leader  in  Cataline's 
conspiracy. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  state  more 
wretched,  than  that  of  the  present  inhabitants 
of  Aquileia.  Poverty  here  appears  in  most 
loathsome  and  disgusting  forms.  The  aque- 
ducts that  formerly  supplied  it  with  water, 
so  essential  to  the  health  of  its  inhabitants, 
are  either  obstructed  or  have  fallen  to  de- 
cay ;  and  thirst  and  famine,  the  scourges  of 
war,  are,  in  a  state  of  peace,  devouring  all  that 
remains  of  that  beautiful  city,  the  inha- 
bitants of  which  fled  or  sunk  before  the  un- 
sparing sword  of  Attila.  In  a  publick  square 
stands  the  melancholy  ruin  of  a  fountain, 
around  which  prosperity  and  happiness  appear 
once  to  have  reigned,  but  where  now  an  air  of 


133 

solitude  prevails  that  oppresses  the  heart.  The 
immense  landed  possessions  of  count  Cassis, 
cover  the  fairest  portion  of  the  territory  of  Aqui- 
leia.  This  vast  estate,  which  if  broken  and  divi- 
ded among  its  inhabitants,  would  make  each  pea- 
sant comfortable  and  happy,  in  the  hands  of  a  sin- 
gle individual,  impoverishes  and  enslaves  them. 
The  produce  of  their  labour,  and  the  revenues 
of  the  land,  go  to  nourish  the  prodigality  of  its 
proprietor,  who  resides  at  Trieste  amidst  all 
the  pleasures  of  oriental  luxury. — Who  is  there, 
that  in  contemplating  these  extremes  of  misery 
and  splendour,  who  does  not  hail  with  rapture 
the  period,  however  distant,  when  a  more  gene- 
ral diffusion  of  knowledge,  and  a  more  equal 
distribution  of  rights,  shall  abolish  every  ves- 
tige of  the  feudal  system  ?  And  what  Italian 
who  beholds  this  hydra-headed  monster  rear 
its  proud  crest  once  more  upon  his  native  land, 
who  does  not  secretly  invoke  the  powerful 
arm  of  the  late  champion  of  France,  who  beat 
it  down  and  destroyed  it,  wherever  it  obstruct- 
ed the  march  of  his  ambition  ?  and  what 
American  who  recollects  the  condition  of  his 
own  happy  country,  who  does  not  kindle  with 
enthusiasm,  when  he  reflects  that  by  a  fortu- 
nate coincidence  of  moral  and  physical  circum- 
stances, it  is  exempted  from  the  haughty  op- 
pressions and  ruinous  vices  of  a  nobility  ? 


134 


I  embarked  for  Venice  in  the  month  of 
May.  The  rocky  coast  of  Istria,  clothed  with 
spring,  presented  a  variety  of  cultivated  and 
savage  prospects.  Gardens  and  country-houses 
climbing  up  the  sides  of  the  neighbouring  hills, 
and  intermixed  with  vineyards,  and  boschettif 
afforded  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  rocky  scene- 
ry, with  which  they  were  interspersed.  At 
length  the  city  of  Trieste  and  its  surrounding 
hills  disappeared,  and  nothing  remained  visible 
in  the  quarter  of  the  horizon  where  it  lay,  but  the 
top  of  one  of  the  Idrian  mountains,  which  over- 
hung it  like  a  blue  promontory.  A  light  breeze 
wafted  us  across  the  Adriatick.  In  the  course 
of  our  voyage,  we  gazed  with  wonder  upon 
the  neighboring  Alps,  which  rose  from  the  mar- 
gin of  the  sea,  and  shewed  themselves  in  their 
grandest  forms.  But  our  attention  was  soon  at- 
tracted by  another  object  no  less  marvellous  and 
striking ;  for  Venice  began  to  appear  with  all  her 
towers,  domes  and  palaces,  floating  upon  the 
waves,  over  which  she  still  seemed  to  reign  in- 
disputed  mistress;  but  when  we  entered  her 
deserted  harbour,  the  evidences  of  ruined  gran- 


135 

deur,  reminded  us  that  the  trident  she  once 
triumphantly  wielded,  was  fallen  from  her 
grasp. 

We  landed  upon  the  quay  of  St.  Mark, 
among  its  mountebanks  and  marionette.  Groups 
of  women  and  children,  stood  laughing  at  the 
comick  feats  of  Polichinello.  The  idle  gondo- 
lier^ basking  in  the  sun,  called  out  to  us  as 
we  passed,  or  disputed  among  themselves  with 
all  the  caustick  wit  and  vehemence  of  gesticu-  • 
lation,  characteristick  of  Venetian  vivacity.  A 
sort  of  improvisator  e,  stood  in  the  midst  of  a 
circle,  with  the  impassioned  gestures  of  an  ora- 
tor, recounting  anecdotes  of  Joseph  the  second, 
and  episodes  and  adventures  from  Tasso  and 
Ariosto,  to  which  he  gave  a  colouring  and  ima- 
gery of  his  own.  The  Venetian  florists  displayed 
the  fairest  offerings  of  the  spring  upon  the  quay. 
Orange-trees  and  myrtles  perfumed  the  air,  and 
near  the  shade  of  these,  the  bird-fancier  hung  his 
cages  of  goldfinches  and  nightingales.  Glass- 
es and  jars  filled  with  water,  were  disposed  up- 
on neat  tables,  and  intermixed  with  perfumes 
and  cordials,  and  "  chi  vuol  acqua"  was  voci- 
ferated from  twenty  places  at  the  same  time, 
with  importunate  vehemence.  Persons  of  the 
lowest  condition  were  to  be  seen  frequently 


136 

approaching  these  tables,  and  purchasing  a 
glass  of  water,  for  which  they  paid  a  centesu 
mo.  In  St.  Mark's  square,  near  the  arcades, 
were  erected  beautiful  tents,  as  a  shelter  from 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  under  which  a  people 
were  assembled,  whose  countenances  were 
marked  with  no  indications  of  laborious  thought, 
but  who  appeared  to  be  enjoying  in  these  seats 
of  delicious  repose,  those  vague  illusions  of  the 
fancy,  which  the  soft  climate  of  the  South, 
•  and  the  thousand  amusing  objects  around, 
were  calculated  to  inspire. 
■ 
My  attention  was  withdrawn  from  these  ob- 
jects, by  the  Architectural  magnificence  that 
surrounded  me.  St.  Mark's  church  and  the 
ducal  palace  monuments,  of  a  bad  taste, 
displayed,  however,  all  the  imposing  gran- 
deur and  rich  decorations  of  the  arabesque 
style,  opposite  to  purer  specimens  of  art, 
sanctioned  by  noble  designs  of  Palladia 
and  Sansoviuo. 

It  is  difficult  to  trace  the  features  and  form  of 
St.  Mark's  church,  so  overloaded  is  it  with  or- 
nament, and  so  discordant  are  the  principles  of 
architecture  united  in  its  composition.  Three 
hundred  pillars   of  porphyry  verd'  antico>   and 


137 

Other  precious  marbles  of  Grecian  proportions, 
are  crowded  into  the  lower  story  of  the  front, 
for  the  sake  merely  of  ornament.  The  facade  is 
divided  into  two  stories  by  a  long  gallery, 
in  the  centre  of  which,  stand  four  bronze 
horses,  the  masterpieces  of  Lyssippus.  The 
five  arches  below  and  those  above  are  enriched 
with  figures  on  a  gilt  ground  of  mosaick.  The 
upper  story  is  covered  with  a  profusion  of  light 
and  delicate  ornaments,  crowned  with  the  pon- 
derous domes  of  an  eastern  mosque.  The  same 
puerile  taste  apparent  in  the  decoration  and  con- 
struction of  its  exterior,  appears  to  have  regu- 
lated the  choice  and  disposition  of  its  internal 
ornaments.  Its  altar,  which  dazzles  with  a 
blaze  of  opulence — its  oriental  marbles — its 
gilded  domes,  cannot  supply  the  charm  of  that 
unity  and  simplicity,  which  is  here  sacrificed  to 
a  love  of  minute  finery. 

Sometimes,  however,  the  most  exception- 
able works  of  art,  derive  from  an  interesting 
event,  an  extraordinary  influence  over  the  ima- 
gination. I  entered  St.  Mark's  church  during 
the  celebration  of  the  funeral  obsequies  of  Ma- 
ria Louisa,  late  empress  of  Austria.  The  inte- 
riour  was  hung  with  drapery.  In  the  middle 
of  the  aisle  under  the  central  dome,  a  flight  of 
19 


138 

steps  was  raised,  supporting  the  bier  of  the  em- 
press, over  which  was  thrown  the  imperial 
mantle,  adorned  with  the  arms  of  the  house  of 
Lorraine.  At  each  of  the  four  corners  on  the 
second  step  was  stationed  an  officer  of  the  im- 
perial guard  attired  in  a  brilliant  uniform.  The 
whole  was  guarded  by  four  marble  cherubim, 
each  holding  a  lighted  torch  in  one  hand  and  co- 
vering, his  face  with  the  other.  The  pomp  of 
these  funeral  honours, — the  rank  and  beauty  of 
the  person,  who  was  the  object  of  them,— the  so- 
lemn chaunt  of  the  requiem, — the  crowds  of 
mendicants  assembled  here,  to  implore  the  cha- 
rity of  the  visitor,  or  to  seek  the  comforts  of 
religion,  diffused  over  the  mind  a  solemn  feel- 
ing, and  excluded  from  it  for  the  moment  every 
consideration,  but  what  related  to  the  illus- 
trious  deceased. 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

The  solemn  grandeur  of  these  funeral  rites, 
whilst  my  mind  was  wholly  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  them,  blinded  me  to  the 
faults  of  the  temple,  in  the  interiour  of  which 
they  were  celebrated,  and  in  which  a  sober  and 
dispassionate  judgment  finds  so  much  to  con- 
demn. 


139 

Immediately  before  the  church,  are  the  three 
standards  on  which  formerly  waved  the  ban- 
ners of  the  republick.  Their  pedestals  of 
bronze,  sculptured  in  mezzo  releivo,  are  the 
performance  of  the  artist  Leopard'^  in  the  reign 
of  the  Doge  Leonardo  Loredano.  But  among 
the  objects  of  the  square,  the  most  conspicu- 
ous on  account  of  its  great  elevation,  is  the 
tower  of  St.  Mark  ;  its  height  is  three  hundred 
and  thirty -two  feet,  and  although  erected  upon 
a  spot  that  was  originally  a  marshy  island  in  the 
sea,  its  altitude  has  not  suffered  the  smallest 
diminution.  The  stairs  in  the  inside  leading  to 
its  campanile*  or  bell- loft,  are  so  easy,  and  the 
passage  so  spacious,  that  it  may  be  mounted  on 
horseback.  Here,  as  may  be  well  conceived, 
a  prospect  presents  itself  as  novel  as  it  is  beau- 
tiful and  gay,  for  the  spectator  not  only  sees  be- 
low him  the  place  and  church  of  St.  Mark,  but 
measures  with  his  eye  the  whole  extent  of  the  ci- 
ty of  Venice,  its  canals  and  lagune  spotted  with 
light  gondolas, — the  shores  of  Mestre  and  the 
country  of  the  Brenta.     The  tower  terminates 

*  A  singular  accident  happened  in  the  tower  of  St. 
Mark,  a  short  time  before  1  visited  it.  The  tongue  of 
the  enormous  bell  suddenly  gave  way,  and  crushed  to 
death  a  person  walking  beneath  it.  I  saw  the  fatal  frag- 
ment, and  attempted  in  vain  to  raise  it. 


140 

at  the  top  in  a  pyramid,  upon  the  summit  of 
which  stands  the  bronze  figure  of  an  angel, 
which  sometimes  appears  to  have  a  circular  mo- 
tion, and  to  indicate  with  the  tips  of  its  wings 
the  direction  of  the  wind. 

The  apartments  in  the  interiour  of  the  ducal 
palace  call  up  in  the  mind  many  noble  ideas, 
and  their  power  of  elevating  the  thoughts,  ari- 
ses principally  from  the  multitude  of  excellent 
paintings,  with  which  they  are  adorned.  Here 
the  rich  pencils  and  copious  inventions  of  Tu 
tian,  Paulo  Veronese  and  Tintoretto,  have  ex- 
hibited a  .  glowing  picture  of  the  past,  so  rich 
in  illustrious  achievements  ;  and  these  master- 
pieces of  art,  must  have  contributed  to  nou- 
rish the  virtues  of  the  republick,  and  to  pro- 
tract the  span  of  its  glory  beyond  the  term,  at 
which  it  was  destined  to  expire  by  the  ope- 
ration of  moral  and  physical  causes. 

In  passing  to  these  apartments,  the  visitor 
stops  to  admire  the  cortile  of  the  palace,  and 
the  staircase  of  white  marble,  leading  to  its 
corridores,  called  scala  del  giganti,  from  two 
colossal  statues  in  marble  of  Mars  and  Nep- 
tune, by  Sansovino,  denoting  the  two-fold  do- 
minion  of   the  republick.      On   entering  the 


141 


«orridor,  opposite  to  this  staircase,  an  inscrip- 
tion presents  itself  in  red  characters  upon  a 
golden  ground,  in  commemoration  of  Henry 
the  third,  king  of  France,  and  first  sovereign  of 
Poland,  who  in  the  year  fifteen  hundred  and  se- 
venty four,  passed  through  Venice  on  his 
way  to  Frar.ce,  to  receive  the  crown  after  the 
death  of  his  brother  Charles  the  ninth,  and 
who  was  pleased  to  accept  the  title  of  noble 
Venetian,  offered  him  by  the  senate,  and  to  be 
enrolled  in  the  golden  book. 

On  the  left  is  a  chapel,  which    the   Doge 
Pietro   Ziani  erected  to  St.  Nicolas.      It    was 
afterwards  rebuilt  by  Andrea  Gritti  and  paint- 
ed  in   fresco  by    Titian.     In  this  story  of  the 
palace  were  held  the   different  courts   of  jus- 
tice.       The   staircase   leading    to   the   Ducal 
apartments  of  the   second  story,  is  ornament- 
ed with   stucco,  and    the   intermediate    spaces 
are  embellished  with   historical  pieces,   by  the 
pencil   of    Batista    Franco.     In    the  Sala  ex- 
collegio  the  Doge  held  a  session   of  the  coun- 
sellors of  state.      The  hall  of  the   counsel  of 
ten   is  remarkable  for  the  beautiful  allegorical 
painting  on  its    ceiling,  where  Jove  is   repre- 
sented hurling  the  lightnings  upon  those  par- 
ticular crimes,   which  were  subject  to  the  ju- 


142 


risdiction  of  the  august  body  assembled  be- 
neath it,  whose  genius  is  personified  vby  the 
winged  figure,  which  stands  near  Jove  hol- 
ding the  volume  ot  its  laws. 

The  walls  of  the  great  council  chamber,  So- 
la del  ex-magior  consiglio,  are  surrounded 
with  a  series  of  portraits  of  the  Doges,  as 
they  reigned  in  chronological  order.  One  of 
them  who  fell  by  the  axe  of  the  law,  is  blot- 
ted out  of  the  list,  but  the  day  of  his  execu- 
tion and  the  nature  of  his  punishment,  still  re- 
main inscribed  upon  the  black  veil,  that  co- 
vers the  portrait  of  the  traitor.  Above  the 
throne  of  the  Doge  is  a  vast  picture  by  Tin- 
toretto, representing  the  day  of  judgment. 
Armies  of  angels  and  saints  seated  amidst  the 
clouds,  and  illuminated  by  the  rays  of  celes- 
tial glory,  have  a  pleasing  effect  and  exhibit 
that  magical  variety  of  light  and  colours, 
so  much  extolled  in  the  compositions  of  the 
Venetian  masters.  In  the  spaces  between  the. 
windows  which  open  upon  the  piazza,  Paulo 
Veronese  has  painted  the  triumphal  return  of 
the  Doge  Andrea  Contarini,  after  his  victory 
over  the  Genoese.  The  subjects  of  the 
other  paintings  relate  to  the  capture  of  Con- 
stantinople by  the    Venetians,    the   league   of 


143 


Cambray,  and  the  victories   of  the  republick 
over   Frederick  Barbarossa. 

The  Sala  del  cx-squintinio  contains  a  painting 
of  the  capture  of  Zara,  one  of  Tintoretto's 
finest  pieces.  Here  is  also  a  painting,  which 
has  for  its  subject  a  victory  of  the  Doge  Mi- 
chieli  over  a  caliph  of  Egypt,  in  the  beginning 
of  the  twelfth  century.  A  gallant  feat  of  a  Ve- 
netian standard-bearer,  in  this  battle,  deserves 
to  be  noticed.  Having  lost  his  standard  he 
tears  a  turban  from  the  head  of  an  Egyptian 
officer,  unfolds  it,  attaches  it  to  a  spear  and 
in  order  to  render  it  more  conspicuous,  cuts  off 
the  arm  of  the  barbarian,  and  with  his  blood 
traces  a  circle  in  the  centre,  then  waves  it 
aloft  in  the  place  of  his  standard.  This 
hardy  yet  ferocious  achievement,  obtained 
for  his  descendants,  the  appellation  of  Bar- 
baroy  who  took  for  their  arms  a  turban  spread 
out,  and  marked  in  the  centre  with  a  crim- 
son circle. 

Beneath  the  ducal  palace  lie  those  tremen* 
dous  prisons  (i  pozzi)  at  the  entrance  of  which, 
the  unhappy  victim  bade  an  eternal  adieu  to 
the  light  of  heaven.  The  bridge  of  sighs 
(  tionte  del  sospiri,)  so  called  from  the  groans 


144 


of  the  criminals,  that  issued  from  the  ad- 
joining prison,  connects  the  latter  with  the 
ducal  palace,  as  if  to  remind  sovereigns  of 
the  shortness  of  the  distance,  between  the 
throne  and  the  dungeon. 

The  porticoes,  colonnades,  statues  and  cor- 
nices of  the  palaces  around  St.    Mark's  place, 
are  light  and  graceful,    and  as  it  has  been  re- 
marked, form   a  striking  contrast  with  the  as- 
pect of  the  church  at  one  of   its  extremities, 
which   with   its  splendid  load  of  costly  orna- 
ment, has  an  air  of  rude  and  barbarous  magni- 
ficence.     An   open  portico  passes  round  the 
whole  of  the   piazza,   the   interiour  of   which 
is  gay,   with  a  multitude  of  coffee-houses  and 
jeweller's  shops.     The  buildings  on  the  eastern 
side  called  Procaratie  Nuove,  are  after  the  de- 
signs of   Sansovino,  and  exhibit  three  orders, 
the  Dorick,  the  Ionick  and  Corinthian,  of  the 
most  graceful  architecture.     Opposite  to  these, 
are  the  Procuratie  Fecchie,  the  external  arrange- 
ment of   which,  is  nearly  similar,  except  that 
the  arcades  are  supported  by  pilasters,  and  the 
order  of  the  colonnades  is    Tuscan.     In  the 
same  line   with  the   Procuratie    VeccKie  stands 
the  tower  of  the  clock  of  St.  Mark,  remarkable 
for  the  two  figures  in  bronze  (i  mori,)   upon 


145 


its  summit,  standing  on  each  side  of  a  large  bell, 
upon  which  they  strike  with  a  hammer  the  hour 
of  the  day.  From  this  quarter  the  noblest 
views  of  St.  Mark's  place  present  themselves. 
Looking  towards  the  Adriatick,  the  view  opens 
upon  the  Piazzeta  through  a  superb  architec- 
tural vista,  formed  by  the  front  of  St.  Mark's 
church,  the  ducal  palace  and  the  colonnades 
of  the  publick  library,  at  the  extremity  of 
which,  upon  the  summit  of  a  granite  column, 
the  lion  of  St.  Mark  with  expanded  wings,  ap- 
pears just  to  have  alighted  like  the  guardian  di- 
vinity of  the  place.  Upon  the  right  hand,  St. 
Mark's  place  opens  in  all  its  magnificence. 
The  light  and  graceful  architecture  of  its  build- 
ings, the  beautiful  level  of  its  pavements, 
upon  the  uniform  smoothness  of  which  the 
eye  loves  to  dwell,  the  blue  awnings,  and 
tents  erected  in  different  places,  and  filled  with 
company  regaling  themselves  with  sorbets  and 
coffee,  compose  a  scene  beautiful  and  ani- 
mated. 

Besides  that  admiration  to  which  it  is  fairly 
entitled,  in  consequence  of  the  impressions  it 
is  fitted  to  produce  in  every  mind,  awake  to 
the  beauties  of  art,  St.  Mark's  place  is  also 
celebrated  for  its  being  the  principal  seen •-  of 
20 


146 


Venetian  gaiety  and  vice  ;  of  pleasures  which 
know  no  pause  or  intermission.  Never  is  it  si- 
lent or  vacant.  Its  coffee-houses  are  perpetual- 
ly open,  and  there  is  no  part  of  the  night  in 
which  the  voice  of  gaiety  is  not  heard  in  its  ar- 
cades. Here  the  carnival,  at  its  proper  season, 
displays  all  its  enchantment,  and  beholding  it 
illuminated  by  an  Italian  moon,  I  could  not 
forbear  imagining  it  for  a  moment,  the  scene  of 
one  of  those  fairy  revels,  which  have  an  air  of 
such  enchantment  in  the  narratives  of  the  travel- 
ler and  the  fictions  of  the  novelist.  These  vi- 
sions of  fancy,  however,  soon  gave  place  to  feel- 
ings more  profound  and  sacred.  The  intoxi- 
cation of  sensual  delight,  appears  to  have 
transformed  human  life  at  Venice,  into  some- 
thing little  better  than  the  vision  of  a  waking 
dream.  Yet  this  life,  the  surface  of  which  ap- 
pears so  unruffled,  is  subject  to  the  most  vio- 
lent and  tumultuous  agitations.  The  charac- 
ter of  this  people  exhibits  a  strange  mixture  of 
libertinism  and  superstition,  ot  energy  and  im- 
becility. Although  their  mode  of  life  affords  a 
complete  exemplification  of  the  doctrines  of 
epicurism,  the  apprehension  of  death  over- 
powers them  with  an  insupportable  horrour. 
They  are  terrified  at  the  slightest  indisposition, 
which  they  are  apt  to  interpret  as  a  summons  to 


147 

the  grave.  The  scene  of  Venetian  libertinism 
immediately  surrounds  the  cathedral  of  St. 
Mark,  and  roused  from  her  dream  of  pleasure 
by  the  fear  of  approaching  dissolution,  the  fair 
penitent  may  fly  to  its  altars  for  hope.  This 
was  the  case  of  a  Venetian  lady  whom  I  knew, 
and  who  evinced  a  depth  of  intellect  and  a 
reach  of  thought  beyond  her  sex,  but  whose 
imagination,  in  con  sequence  of  a  momentary 
loss  of  health,  or  a  casual  depression  of  spirits, 
became  haunted  with  the  phantoms  of  a  gloomy 
superstition.  I  have  had  frequent  occasion 
to  remark  in  my  intercourse  with  Italian  socie- 
ty, the  strength  and  permanence  on  the  under- 
standings of  some  of  its  most  enlightened 
and  accomplished  individuals — of  those  impres- 
sions, which  in  this  country,  the  mind  discards 
from  their  repugnancy  to  the  sober  conclusions 
of  reason,  almost  as  soon  as  it  is  freed  irom 
the  restraints  and  discipline  of  the  nursery. 

Nothing  contributes  more  to  perpetuate  the 
doctrine  of  the  mediation  of  saints,  in  the 
minds  of  those  among  whom  it  prevails,  than 
that  peculiarity  in  their  intellectual  character, 
which  incapacitates  them  for  contemplating 
the  Deity,  in  the  calm  light  of  philosophical 
abstraction,    divested   of   those    impurer    and 


148 


grosservqualities,  with  which  the  fervours  of 
a  misguided  imagination  are  apt  to  clothe 
the  divine  nature.  The  religious  opinions 
of  a  people  who  cannot  abstract  their  ideas 
from  the  images  of  sense,  must  necessarily 
be  subject  to  all  the  capricious  influences  of 
fancy.  The  idea  of  the  Deity  can  never 
present  itself  in  all  the  nakedness  of  abstrac- 
tion to  their  thoughts,  without  terrifying  and 
alarming  them.  They  must  approach  him 
through  the  intervention  of  intermediate  in- 
telligences, intelligences  that  have  once  suf- 
fered the  infirmities  of  human  nature.  In  no 
other  way  can  their  affections  become  united 
to  the  prime  source  of  purity  and  intelligence. 
Nor  is  this  a  bias  which  prevails  only  in  the 
minds  of  Roman  catholicks.  Its  influence 
operates  more  or  less,  upon  the  religious 
opinions  of  all  mankind.  When  subject  to 
the  control  <of  reason,  it  is  the  source  of  ratio- 
nal and  manly  piety,  and  its  universality  vin- 
dicates the  truth  of  Christianity,  which  in  re- 
vealing a  Saviour  to  the  world,  fulfils  the  in- 
tention of  the  author  of  our  nature,  as  far 
as  it  is  to  be  discovered  by  us,  in  the  frame 
and   constitution  of   the   human  mind. 


149 


This  proneness  to  a  religion,  which  exercises 
almost  exclusively  the  imagination  and  the 
senses,  is  not  blameable  in  itself,  but  being 
the  offspring  of  a  weak  mind,  its  influence 
on  human  happiness  is  too  considerable,  not 
to  render  it  one  of  the  first  objects  of  soli- 
citude, in  every  system  of  moral  and  intel- 
lectual improvement.  Of  this  truth  the  mo- 
ral habits  of  the  Venetians  afford  an  illustra- 
tion. Sensual  and  pious,  they  are  forever  sin- 
ning and  repenting.  At  one  time  regarding 
their  religion  as  the  creation  of  a  vulgar  su- 
perstition, at  another  seeking  in  its  despised 
ordinances  and  institutions,  a  refuge  from  those 
phantoms,  with  which  it  is  calculated  to  agi- 
tate the  conscience  of  terrified  guilt.  There  is 
not  enough  of  abstraction  in  their  philosophy, 
and  in  their  religion,  which  like  their  poetry, 
give  no  exercise  to  the  nobler  powers  of  the 
mind. 

The  example  of  the  Venetians,  would  lead 
us  to  the  opinion,  that  the  social  state  after  its 
arrival  at  its  highest  pitch  of  prosperity  and  re- 
finement, has  a  natural  tendency  to  decline. 
The  charm  of  polished  manners,  the  splen- 
did comforts  of  opulence,  the  elegancies  of 
art,   are     the  product   of  genius  and    labour, 


150 


but  when  once  acquired,  they  lull  into  inaction 
the  energies  and  talents  employed  in  their  ac- 
quisition. The  Venetian  commonwealth  sprung 
from  that  moral  force  which  is  generated  by  a 
conflict  with  difficulty.  The  pupils  of  adversi- 
ty, the  Venetians  soon  learned  from  their  severe 
instructress,  to  vanquish  the  disadvantages 
of  their  inhospitable  situation,  and  familiar 
with  danger,  they  would  naturally  delight 
to  seek  and  confront  it,  in  their  native  ele- 
ment. When  Attila  compelled  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Aquileia,  to  seek  refuge  in  the  shal- 
lows of  the  Adriatick,  it  was  little  thought 
that  this  wretched  band  of  fugitives,  would 
found  a  republick,  which  should  shake  to  its 
foundation  the  Ottoman  Empire,  and  overawe 
the  confederated  powers  of  Europe.  Where 
is  now  fled  that  spirit  of  toil  and  adven- 
ture, which  collected  here  the  wealth  of 
India?  Where  is  now  that  nobility  whose 
taste  and  love  of  magnificence  prompted  them 
to  dissipate  their  treasures,  in  burthening  the 
sea  with  these  immense  structures  ?  Ask 
the  Venetians  what  has  become  of  their  Pi- 
sani,  their  Cornari,  their  Contarini, — and  they 
are  silent.  "  In  a  few  years  their  few  successors 
will  go  to  the  family  vault,  of  "  all  the  Capu- 
lets."     Venice  has   terminated  her   career    of 


151 


glory.  Some  vestiges  remain  of  her  once 
noble  and  commanding  form,  but  the  soul 
that  animated  it  is  fled,  and  we  in  vain 
search  for  that  creative  spirit,  which  rear- 
ed from  these  sterile  waters,  this  superb  as- 
semblage of   palaces  and  temples. 

From    what   you  see    of  the    Venetians   in 
their   favourite    rendezvous    of    pleasure,    you 
would  suppose  them   the  happiest   people  in 
the   world  ;  but   follow  them   to   their  homes 
and  the  scene  is  entirely  reversed.    A  wretched 
half    furnished    apartment,    the     windows    of 
which     look    upon    the    sullen    waters   of    a 
lonely   canal,    whose    solitude     is    interrupted 
only  by  the  occasional  appearance  of  a  black, 
gondola,  is  often   the   abode   of  some   ruined 
family,    once   high   in   the  ranks   of  nobility. 
In  a  mansion   whose     appearance    announces 
the  interiour   of  a  palace,  beauty  and  accom- 
plishment   are     often    found    languishing    in 
want,    yet  solacing   their    sad     condition    by 
those    pleasures,      which    Italy   still   yields   to 
the  imagination  and    the  heart.    The  gay   as- 
semblies  of    St.     Murk's  place,    in   the   eve- 
ning,— a   musical  party  on   the  water, — a  trip 
to    Padua  along   the    pleasant   banks    of    the 
Brenta,    have   the    power   of    dissipating   the 


152 


gloom  of  adversity.  Venice  is  still  the  scene 
of  gallantry  and  love,  and  among  its  canals 
and  palaces,  the  pictures  of  romance  often 
recur  to  the  fancy  of  the  traveller.  I  have 
been  sometimes  tempted  to  stop  in  a  gondola 
beneath  a  window,  to  listen  to  strains  which 
appeared  to  be  those  of  some  captive  beauty, 
complaining  of  the  treachery  of  fortune. 
There  is  magick  in  every  sound  one  hears 
in  this  scene  of  gallantry  and  romance,  and 
amidst  its  remains  of  proud  magnificence, 
every  trivial  circumstance  speaks  to  the  fan- 
cy and  the  heart. 

Opposite  the  piazza  of  St.  Mark,  on  a 
beautiful  island  of  about  a  mile  in  circuit, 
stands  the  church  of  St.  Giorgio  Maggiore. 
It  adjoins  a  garden  and  monastery,  where  the 
visitor,  transported  from  the  gay  diversions 
of  St.  Mark's  place,  may  taste  the  pleasures 
of  religious  solitude.  The  church  itself  was 
designed  by  Palladia.  Its  facade  is  of  marble 
and  adorned  with  seven  statues,  two  of  which 
stand  in  the  intercolumniations,  and  five  on  the 
top  of  the  pediment.  The  great  altar,  which 
is  insulated,  is  composed  of  the  finest  mar- 
ble, and  is  adorned  with  bronze  statues,  of 
the  four  Evangelists  supporting  a  globe  upon 


153 

which  stands  the  eternal  Father.  The  sculp- 
ture which  adorns  the  seats  of  the  choir, 
represents  the  principal  events  in  the  life  of 
St.  Benedict.  In  the  refectory  stood  the  no- 
ted painting  of  the  nuptials  of  Cana  by 
Paul  Veronese^  whence  it  was  removed  by 
the  French  to  the  gallery  of  the  Louvre,  at 
Paris.  It  contains  a  hundred  and  twenty 
figures,  many  of  which  are  likenesses  of 
persons,  who  were  friends  and  contempora- 
ries of  the  artist. 

The  tombs  of  the  Doges  in  this  church 
have  a  noble  effect.  These  monuments  erect- 
ed in  honour  of  those,  who  by  their  valour 
and  wisdom  have  exalted  the  Venetian  name, 
are  a  grand  and  affecting  testimony  of  na- 
tional gratitude,  and  while  they  perpetuate 
the  fame  of  the  illustrious  qualities  of  which 
they  are  the  reward,  they  are  calculated  to 
remind  the  solitary  recluse,  that  a  life  of 
genuine  piety  consists  in  the  exercise  of 
virtues  connected  with  publick  useful- 
ness, and  which  are  cultivated  and  matur- 
ed only  in  the  scenes  of  active  life. 

The  hero,  who  principally  claims  our  at- 
tention  here,    among  these  chiefs  of  the    re- 

21 


154 


publick,  is  the  Doge  Sebastiani  Ziani,  who 
lies  entombed  with  his  son  and  grandson 
Pietro  and  Jacopo,  who  appear  to  have  inhe- 
rited his  virtues.  In  his  time  Pope  Alexan- 
der the  third,  flying  before  the  vengeance  of 
Frederick  Barbaross%  arrived  at  Venice,  where 
he  inhabited  the  patriarchal  palace,  and  where 
he  was  treated  with  becoming  respect  by  the 
Doge  and  senate, 

In  the  reign  of  this  Doge,  first  mention  is 
made  of  the  annual  custom  of  espousing 
the  Adriatick  sea,  where,  after  his  return 
from  a  naval  victory  over  Otho,  the  Pope 
presents  him  a  ring  to  be  used  in  the  cele- 
bration of  these  nuptials,  with  this  decla- 
ration, che  il  mare  e  sottoposto  a  vostro  do- 
minio  come  la  moglia  al  marito. 

Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  brilliant, 
than  the  picture  which  historians  give  of  Ve- 
nice under  the  government  of  this  Doge.  The 
number  of  ambassadors,  princes,  cardinals 
archbishops,  prelates  and  other  distinguished 
personages  then  at  Venice,  is  said  to  have 
amounted  to  five  thousand,  besides  those  at- 
tached to  the  imperial  court  which  also  resided 
here. 


155 


This  Doge  died  in  the  sixth  year  of  his 
reign,  covtred  with  glory,  leaving  the  republick 
opulent  and  powerful,  bequeathing  a  large  por- 
tion of  his  fortune  to  the  people,  enriching  the 
religious  establishment  of  the  Island  of  St. 
Giorgio,  and  appropriating  a  fund  to  be  em- 
ployed for  the  relief  of  those  suffering  in  the 
publick  prisons. 

Leaving  the  Island  of  St.  Giorgio,  passing 
the  Dogana  and  proceeding  up  the  grand  canal, 
the  church  of  St.  Maria  della  Salute,  a  striking 
and  magnificent  object  presents  itself.  Venice  in 
the  year  sixteen  hundred  and  thirty,  being  almost 
depopulated  by  the  plague,  the  senate  made  a 
vow  to  erect  a  church  in  honour  of  St.  Maria  del- 
la  Salute,  of  which  this  superb  structure  was  the 
consequence.  It  rises  by  a  flight  of  fifteen 
steps  from  the  margin  of  the  canal ;  its  facade 
is  of  marble,  and  formed  by  four  columns  of 
the  composite  order.  In  the  spaces  between 
them  on  each  side  of  the  great  portal  of  the 
church,  are  two  niches  one  above  the  other, 
and  separated  by  a  cornice  of  the  lightest  and 
most  graceful  sculpture.  The  ornaments  of  late- 
ral facade  are  equally  splendid,  and  its  roof  and 
pediments  are  adorned  with  a  multitude  of  mar- 
ble statues. 


156 


The  interiour  of  the  church  is  circular,  over 
the  centre  of  which,  rises  the  superb  octangu- 
lar dome,  painted  in  fresco  by  Pellegrini,  and 
supported  by  eight  lofty  columns  with  richly 
ornamented  capitals.  Immediately  above  these 
columns  around  its  base,  runs  a  rich  cornice 
of  the  composite  order,  adorned  with  a  balus- 
trade and  eight  large  statues  corresponding  to 
the  eight  capitals  below.  Thirty  feet  above 
these,  the  curvature  of  the  dome  commences, 
seventy -two  feet  in  diameter,  and  fifty  in  height, 
without  comprehending  the  lanterne. 

The  floor  of  the  church  is  paved  with  the 
richest  marble,  and  behind  the  columns  which 
support  the  cupola  is  an  open  space,  in  which 
are  situated,  chapels,  with  altars  and  pilasters  of 
the  richest  marble,  and  adorned,  some  of  them, 
with  inestimable  paintings.  The  great  altar  is 
shaded  by  a  canopy  supported  by  four  Corinthian 
pillars  of  carrara  marble.  The  piece  of  sculp- 
ture representing  St.  Mary  expelling  the  daemon 
of  pestilence,  by  Campagna,  is  worthy  of  that 
artist. 

In  the  refectory  is  a  painting  of  the  mar- 
riage feast  of  Cana,  by  Tintoretto^  and  the 
ceiling  is  ornamented  with  pictures  by   Titian 


157 


and  Salviati.  The  dwelling  of  the  monks  of 
Stomaski  is  an  edifice  that  does  not  disgrace  the 
magnificent  temple  near  which  it  is  erected. 
This  order  possesses  a  valuable  and  extensive 
library,  rich  also  in  drawings  and  engravings. 

In  the  sanctuary  of  Rosario  in  the  church  of 
St.  Giovanni  e  Pao/o,  the  marble  bas  reliefs 
of  Bonazza,  merit  particular  attention.  The  pre- 
cision with  which  the  artist  has  finished  each  in- 
dividual object,  and  the  astonishing  vigour  of 
expression  he  has  given  to  his  figures,  cannot 
fail  to  strike  the  most  superficial  observer.  Two 
of  these  bas  reliefs  are  particularly  striking,  on 
account  of  their  exquisite  beauty.  The  sub- 
ject of  the  former  is  the  nativity,  that  of  the 
latter,  Christ  disputing  with  the  doctors  in  the 
temple.  In  the  one,  the  furniture  of  the  hum- 
ble apartment  which  was  the  scene  of  the  Mes- 
siah's birth,  is  detailed  with  an  exactness  which 
astonishes  the  more  it* is  examined.  The  other 
rivals  in  life  and  spirit,  the  most  vigorous  per- 
formances of  the  pencil.  The  divine  simpli- 
city— the  ingenuousness  and  truth  expressed 
in  the  countenance  of  the  young  disputant,  are 
admirably  contrasted  with  that  air  of  ingenious 
subtlety,  dogmatism  of  opinion  and  pride  of 
learning,  that  marks  the  eager  and  overbearing 


158 


controversialists,  whose  doctrines  he  is  combat- 
ing. This  church  is  adorned  with  a  numbef 
of  excellent  pictures  by  the  different  Venetian 
masters,  among  which  was  Titian's  incom- 
parable  piece  of  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Peter. 

Among  the  multitudes  of  Doges  that 
lie  buried  here,  the  visitor  remarks  the 
superb  mausoleum  of  Leonardo  Loredano. 
Around  the  statue  of  the  Doge  seated,  by 
Campagna,  are  various  symbolical  figures,  one 
signifies  peace,  the  other  abundance  ;  one 
is  a  personification  of  the  league  of  Cambray, 
the  other  of  the  military  power  of  the  Vene- 
tians. Leonardo  was  conspicuous  for  his  heroi- 
cal  devotion  to  his  country,  during  the  critical 
period  of  the  league  of  Cambray.  In  sending 
his  two  sons  to  the  defence  of  Padua,  he 
kindled  a  flame  of  emulation  in  the  flower 
of  the  Venetian  nobility,  who  each  collec- 
ting a  company  of  friends,  followed  the  exam- 
ple of  the  sons  of  Leonardo.  A  superb  mau- 
soleum covers  the  remains  of  the  Doges 
Bertucci  and  Syvlrestro  Valieri>  grandfather 
and  grandson.  Eleven  days  after  the  eleva- 
tion of  Bertucci  to  the  rank  of  Doge,  fol- 
lowed that  celebrated  naval  victory  of  the 
Venetians  over  the  Turks,  at  the  entrance  of 


159 


the  Dardanelles.  In  the  piazza  before  the 
church  stands  an  equestrian  statue  in  bronze, 
of  the  celebrated  Venetian  Condottiere  Bar- 
tolomeo   Coiloneo  da  Bergamo. 

Contemplating  the  stern  aspect  of  this  war- 
like figure,  and  in  whose  frown  the  thunders 
of  battle  seem  collected,  it  brought  to  my 
mind  those  periods  of  rude  commotion  of 
the  republick,  which  calling  into  activi- 
ty the  higher  virtues,  and  engaging  the 
passions  in  the  pursuit  of  glory,  gave 
them  a  direction  connected  with  national 
honour,  and  favourable  to  the  publick  good. 
How  admirable  in  this  case  is  the  arrange- 
ment of  nature,  which  connects  the  love  of 
fame  in  individuals  with  publick  gran- 
deur, and  how  worthy  of  imitation  are  her 
designs,  which  in  all  cases  where  they  are 
not  perverted  by  the  folly  of  man,  connect 
the  well  being  of  the  citizen  with  the  pros- 
perity of  the  state. 

The  Venetians  appear  to  have  known  bet- 
ter, than  any  other  people,  the  value  of 
those  important  political  junctures,  which 
gave  birth  to  great  civil  and  military  virtues. 
The  chief  magistracy  not  residing  in  any  parti- 


160 


cular  family,  each  Doge  was  solicitous,  by 
leaving  behind  him  some  conspicuous  monu- 
ment of  virtue  and  talents,  to  ennoble  and  illus- 
trate his  posterity.  Each  sovereign  of  this  re- 
publick,  was  anxious  to  crowd  into  the  com- 
pass of  one  short  reign,  as  much  glory  as  is  ge- 
nerally found  diffused  throughout  a  whole  suc- 
cession of  hereditary  princes.  Nor  is  it  to  be 
wondered  at,  that  this  people,  now  so  sunk  in 
degeneracy,  should  formerly  under  such  a  go- 
vernment as  has  been  described,  have  filled 
Europe  with  the  fame  of  their  exploits,  and 
have  left  so  many  proud  monuments  of  nation- 
al magnificence.  But  that  strength  and  splen- 
dour cannot  be  permanent  and  solid,  which  de- 
pends for  support  on  the  genius  of  an  indivi- 
dual prince.  The  republick  of  Venice  held 
its  conquests  by  a  slender  tenure,  for  the  acqui- 
sitions of  power  made  during  the  reign  of  a  vi- 
gorous and  politick  chief,  might  be  surrender- 
ed under  a  weak  successor,  or  wrested  from  a 
hand  too  feeble  to  defend  them.  Even  in  the 
meridian  of  her  splendour,  her  political  great- 
ness was  exposed  to  that  fluctuation  and  incon- 
stancy inherent  in  the  constitution  of  her  go- 
vernment.— Had  she  possessed  within  her  own 
bosom  a  salient  and  living  spring  of  vigorous  ac- 
tion,   or  to  speak  without  a  figure,  had  her  go- 


161 


vernment  been  more  popular,  and  had  there  ex- 
isted a  suitable  and  permanent  organ,  to  col- 
lect the  publick  sentiment,  and  to  carry  into  ef- 
fect the  people's  will,  Venice  might  have  been 
figuring  still  in  the  politicks  of  Europe. 

In  the  gov  eminent  of  a  great  and  enlighten- 
ed people,  the  first  magistrate  ought  to  be  no 
more  than  an  instrument  for  carrvinsr  into  ef- 
feet  those  tendencies  to  power  and  refinement, 
which  exist  in  every  well  organized  state,  and 
to  which  the  first  impulse  is  given  by  publick 
interests,  and  publick  opinion.  The  splendour 
thrown  around  a  state,  by  the  talents  and  vir- 
tues of  a  single  individual,  must  sink  into  the 
same  grave  with  its  creator;  but  one  spirit 
and  one  system  of  policy  may  actuate  a  na- 
tion for  centuries,  and  the  talents  and  energies 
of  a  great  people,  are  not  limited  by  any  law 
of  nature,  to  a  term  of  years.  "  Whatever  ad- 
"  vantages,"  says  Burke,  "are  obtained  by  a 
"  state  proceeding  on  these  maxims,  are  lock- 
"  ed  fast  as  in  a  sort  of  family  settlement,  grasp- 
"  ed  as  in  a  kind  of  mort  main  forever.  By  a 
"constitutional  policy,  working  after  the  pat- 
"  tern  of  nature,  a  people  receives,  holds, 
"and  transmits  its  government  and  its  privi- 
"  leges,  in  the  same  manner  as  life  and  proper- 
22 


162 


"  ty  are  transmitted.  The  institutions  of  poli- 
"  cy — the  goods  of  fortune,  are  handed  down 
a  through  a  succession  of  generations,  in  the 
"  same  course  and  order.  The  political  sys- 
"  tem  is  placed  in  a  just  correspondence  and 
"  symmetry  with  the  order  of  the  world,  and 
"  with  the  mode  of  existence  decreed  to  a  per- 
"  manent  body,  composed  of  transitory  parts, 
"  wherein  by  the  disposition  of  a  stupendous 
"  wisdom,  moulding  together  the  great  myste- 
"  rious  incorporation  of  the  human  race,  the 
"  whole  at  one  time  is  never  old  or  middle  aged, 
"  or  young,  but  in  a  condition  of  an  unchange- 
"  able  constancy,  moves  on  through  the  varied 
"  tenor  of  perpetual  decay,  renovation  and  pro- 
"  gression."* 

The  Venetian  government,  whatever  ex- 
cellencies were  mixed  with  it  in  its  original 
formation,  declined  by  degrees  into  an  igno- 
ble oligarchy.  The  exclusion  of  the  peo- 
ple from  the  administration  of  the  govern- 
ment,   was  effectually   secured  to  the   nobles 

*  This  is  the  language  of  Mr.  Burke,  in  defending 
the  doctrine  of  the  inheritable  quality  of  the  crown. 
But  it  is  much  more  applicable  to  the  popular  part  of 
the  British  constitution. 


163 


by  a  policy,  which  retained  the  common 
mind  in  a  state  of  the  lowest  debasement. 
Softened  by  pleasure,  the  people  saw  without 
shame,  their  own  frightful  transformation  in- 
to a  sensual  herd,  and  Venice,  in  whose  ar- 
senal were  forged  those  thunders,  her  trium- 
phant navies  hurled  on  the  foes  of  Christen- 
dom, Venice  became  converted  by  the  same 
Circean  enchantment  into  an  island  of  volup- 
tuousness,— the  seat  of  every  vice  in  its 
most  refined   and  seductive  form. 

In  contemplating  the  fall  of  a  city  once 
so  illustrious,  we  are  naturaly  filled  with  com- 
passion, and  we  eagerly  inquire  if  there  are 
no  means  left,  by  which  she  may  yet  be  res- 
cued from  complete  destruction  ?  To  hear  the 
Venetians  talk,  you  would  suppose  their  de- 
sires had  no  object,  but  the  salvation  of 
their  country.  Their  imaginations  are  kept 
in  a  state  of  continual  inflammation  by  the  vi- 
sion of  the  past,  of  which  they  are  perpe- 
tually reminded,  by  what  remains,  or  by 
what  has  vanished  of  their  former  glory. 
But  that  elevation  of  soul,  which  despises 
pleasure,  which  unites  labour  with  zeal,  and 
which  reaches  its  object  by  the  dint  of  re. 
gular  and  patient  efforts,  is  a  quality  of  mind 


164 


to  be  found  I  fear  at  Venice  only  among  a 
very  few.  The  Venetians,  however,  are  a 
lively  and  passionate  people,  and  the  occa- 
sional flashes  of  eloquence  and  enthusiasm 
which  irradiate  their  conversation,  encourages 
a  hope  that  under  the  auspices  of  a  liberal 
and  active  government,  they  might  recover 
those  energies  which  have  for  so  long  a  time 
lain  dormant,  and  which  are  not  likely  to 
be  "awakened  in  the  stagnant  gloom  A  of  Aus- 
trian despotism. 

Among  the  class  of  Venetians  the  most 
inimical  to  the  reigning  government,  some 
appeared  to  me  to  have  adopted,  as  a  mo- 
del of  their  ideas  of  a  republick,  the  wild 
fancies  of  the  school  of  Rousseau.  Some 
of  them  were  men  of  powerful  and  culti- 
vated talents,  but  with  views  so  indistinct 
and  wild  as  to  render  it  extremely  doubtful, 
whether  their  zeal  was  not  rather  the  effect 
of  passion,  than  an  enlightened  attachment 
to  the  cause  of  liberty.  Though  totally  dis- 
qualified themselves  for  the  task  of  new- 
modelling  a  state,  they  possessed,  how- 
ever, those  dispositions  and  talents,  which 
would  render  them  efficient  instruments  in 
a    powerful   hand.      The  name   of   American 


165 

was  a  passport  to  their  attentions  and  civilities. 
Their  inquiries  concerning  our  manners,  laws 
and  government,  although  in  some  instances 
evidently  suggested  by  mistaken  views  and 
visionary  principles,  shewed,  however,  that 
they  were  not  ignorant  of  the  outline  of  our 
political  constitution.  But  when  I  described 
more  particularly  to  them,  the  perfect  equa- 
lity of  ranks  in  this  country,  the  happiness 
and  dignity  of  the  mass  of  the  people,  this 
statement  of  facts  appeared  to  realize  a  form 
of  society,  which  they  had  hitherto  contem- 
plated only  in  vision,  and  which  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  hear  the  enemies  of  liber- 
ty  deny,  as   the  creation  of   a   heated  fancy. 

In  witnessing  this  pure  homage  of  the  heart, 
extorted  by  our  free  institutions,  from  a  peo- 
ple sunk  into  the  depths  of  degeneracy,  I  un- 
derstood better  than  ever  the  value  of  that 
gift  which  providence  has  bestowed  upon 
the  people  of  this  country,  the  glorious  fruits 
of  which,  are  now  rapidly  diffusing  its  spirit 
over  the  new  world,  and  even  in  Europe,  where 
despotism  appears  to  have  recovered  her  an- 
cient rights,  are  vindicating  the  cause  of  liberty 
upon  the  very  theatre  where  recently  it  has  been 
so  shamefully  disgraced. 


166 


It  was  late  when  we  left  the  church  of  St. 
Giovanni  e  Paolo.  Silence  and  obscurity  reigned 
over  the  canals,  but  the  narrow  space  above 
our  heads  glowing  with  the  saffron  tints  of  even- 
ing, was  an  evidence  that  twilight  still  illu- 
minated the  environs  of  Venice.  The  stroke 
of  the  oar  in  the  water  and  the  cry  of  the  gon- 
doliere  as  he  approached  the  corner  of  a  canal, 
were  the  only  sounds  that  interrupted  the  pro- 
found stillness.  When  we  arrived  at  the  grand 
canal  it  was  dark,  a  multitude  of  moving  lights 
appeared  like  meteors  gliding  and  dancing  over 
the  surface  of  the  water.  They  were  gondolas, 
which  being  painted  black,  are  not  distinguish- 
able at  night,  and  therefore  carry  a  small  lamp 
which  appears  to  be  guided  by  an  invisible  hand, 
shooting  like  a  star  through  the  dark,  with  the 
velocity  of  an  arrow. 

In  sailing  down  this  canal,  which  is  bestrided 
by  the  celebrated  Rialto,  the  traveller  beholds 
on  each  hand  those  sumptuous  palaces,  where 
the  Venetian  nobles  sunk  in  the  lap  of  plea- 
sure, forgot  their  country  and  themseives.  On 
entering  these  scenes  of  patrician  grandeur, 
halls  hung  round  with  faded  tapestry, — de- 
faced pictures, — hangings  of  splendid  damask 
— gilded  chairs    and  sophas,     mutilated  and 


167 


enveloped  in  dust  and  cobwebs,  attest  the  former 
splendour  and  opulence  of  a  family  now  per- 
haps extinct,  or  forced  to  perform  the  inglo- 
rious office  of  parasites  at  the  board  of  some 
plebeian  lord.*  Their  superb  vestibules  and 
staircaises  polluted  with  filth,  and  exhaling  the 
most  offensive  odours,  are  the  more  remarkable, 
as  the  visitor  contrasts  them  in  imagination 
with  the  voluptuous  and  delicate  race  of  beings 
who  formerly  inhabited  them,  who  once  repos- 
ing here  in  all  the  langours  of  luxury,  would 
have  fainted  in  the  perfumed  air  of  the  east, 
and 

Died  of  a  rose,  in  aromatick  pain. 

Some  of  these  palaces  are,  however,  exceptions 
to  the  description  which  in  general  character- 

*  The  number  of  indigent  persons  in  Venice  cal- 
ling themselves  noble,  is  noticed  by  almost  every  tra- 
veller. I  have  been  repeatedly  stopped  by  genteel 
looking  persons  in  the  place  of  St.  Mark,  calling  them- 
selves poveri  nobili,  who  received  with  thankfulness 
the  most  trifling  gratuity.  In  passing  through  the 
streets  and  publick  squares,  my  attention  has  been  fre- 
quently arrested  by  decent  females,  their  faces  con- 
cealed by  a  veil  and  kneeling  for  hours  together.  All 
these,  as  my  guide  informed  me,  were  povere  nobile  ver.e- 
ziane. 


168 


izes  the  mansions  of  the  Venetian  nobility, 
whose  extensive  suites  of  apartments  ele- 
gantly decorated,  and  attended  by  a  number 
of  servants  in  rich  liveries,  are  evidence  of 
a  family  still  enjoying  all  the  splendid  com- 
forts of  opulence.  In  the  Grimani  and  Man- 
frini  palaces,  for  instance,  the  eye  is  charmed 
not  only  with  the  choicest  beauties  of  pain- 
ting and  sculpture,  but  pleased  with  the  neat- 
ness, the  elegance  and  order  apparent  in  the 
ceconomy  of  the   whole   establishment. 

But  it  is  chiefly  with  the  view  of  indulg- 
ing the  higher  pleasures  of  taste  and  imagi- 
nation, that  the  traveller  enters  these  abodes 
of  wealth.  They  are  almost  constantly  open 
to  the  visits  of  the  stranger,  and  their  pro- 
prietors, it  would  appear,  are  vain  of  that 
admiration  excited  in  the  minds  of  foreign- 
ers, by  this  display  of  their  treasures  of  art. 
This  is  a  sort  of  ostentation,  which  to  say 
the  least  in  commendation  of,  is  innocent. 
But  it  is  worthy  of  far  more  than  negative 
praise.  Pictures  and  statues  which  derive 
their  value  from  the  pleasure  they  afford  to 
a  cultivated  mind,  are  a  noble  species  of 
wealth,  and  the  opulence  expended  in  accu- 
mulating these   monumeuts  of   genius,    is    a 


169 


great  general  fund  for  supplying  the  means 
of  enlightening  the  publick  taste,  enlarging 
the  human  intellect,  and  multiplying  the 
sources  of  those  enjoyments,  which,  to  an 
exalted  mind,  are  among  the  most  precious 
fruits,  which  the  social  state  yields  in  its 
highest  and   most   improved   form. 

The  works  of  the  Marquis  of  Canova  at 
the  palace  of  Obizzi,  are  particularly  deser- 
ving of  attention.  Here  the  aerial  form  of 
his  Hebe  appears  to  have  lighted  from  some 
superiour  orb  upon  this  earth,  which  she 
hardly  seems  to  touch.  The  beholder  natu- 
rally asks  with  astonishment,  how  so  much 
softness  and  beauty,  how  such  grace  of  mo- 
tion could  be  communicated  to  a  material  so 
stubborn  and  inflexible,  as  that  on  which 
the  artist  was  obliged  to  operate.  Here  the 
story  of  the  death  of  Socrates  is  told  in  mar- 
ble, with  an  exactitude  and  pathos,  which 
nearly  equals  the  affecting  narrative  of  his 
eloquent  disciple.  One  of  Davide's  finest 
historical  pieces  represents  Socrates,  discour- 
sing with  his  disciples  on  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  at  the  moment  he  is  receiving 
the  fatal  cup.  The  executioner  in  deliver- 
ing it,  averts  his  head,  and  the  sage  with  a 
23 


. 


i70 


countenance  undisturbed  by  emotion,  or  with- 
out discontinuing  his    discourse,    extends  his 
arm  to  receive  it.     The  serenity  and  composure 
of  their  master's  venerable  form,  are  admirably 
contrasted  with  the  grief  expressed  in  the   atti- 
tude and  countenances  of  the  disciples.     But 
Canova   has  here   chosen  for  his  subject,  that 
affecting  scene   which    may   be   supposed    to 
have  taken   place,    alter    Criton    had     closed 
the  eyes  of  his  master.    After  dwelling  on  the 
beauties  of   these   affecting  compositions,    my 
attention  was  diverted  to  a  piece  the  subject 
of  which   was   the   sons  of    Alcinous  dancing 
before  Ulysses.     It  presented  a  group  of   the 
most  airy  and  voluptuous  forms,    and  if  the 
sublime  example  of  fortitude,  exhibited  in  the 
prison  of   Socrates,   was   calculated  to  inspire 
virtuous  sentiments,  and  to  elevate  and  ennoble 
the  character,  the  scene  exhibited  in  the  court 
of  Mcinous  appeared  to  me  calculated  to  sug- 
gest ideas   of   an   opposite   tendency. 

In  the  palace  Barbarigo,  is  an  unfinished 
picture  of  St.  Sebastian — the  last  of  Titian's 
works !  This  final  effort  of  a  genius  which  has 
adorned  the  churches  and  palaces  of  Venice, 
with  so  many  splendid  monuments  of  its  crea- 
tive power,  is  regarded  by  the  Venetians  with 
veneration  and  affection. 


171 


In   the  apartments  of  this  palace,  the  eye 
wanders  over  a  profusion  of  pictures,  and  the 
transported  beholder  finds  himself  in  another  re- 
gion of  existence,  surrounded  by  landscapes 
fairer  than  those  of  nature,  and  human  forms 
of  higher  bloom  and  nobler  grace  than  any  he 
has  ever  beheld.     But  when  to  the  mere  beau- 
ty of  external  form  and  colours,  attractions  of 
a  moral  kind  are  superadded,  and  the  pleasures 
of  the  imagination  are  blended  with  those  of 
the  heart,  the  higher  principles  of  our  nature 
are  touched  and  invigorated  at  the  same  time, 
that  the  pleasures  of  vision  alone,  appear  to  be 
the   object  of  the  artist.     Hence  the  influence 
which  the  higher  efforts  of  painting  have,   in 
forming  the  moral  character  of  a   people,  and 
hence  the  sublime  gratifications  which  this  art 
affords  to  a  thoughtful  and  contemplative  mind. 
Who,  for  instance,  endued  with  a  disposition  of 
this  kind,  can  contemplate  Titian's  Magdalene, 
and  not  see  painted  in  her  features  that  profound 
grief  which  is  the  fruit  of  ungovernable  passions 
in   a  mind  originally  pure  and  exalted  ?     Yet 
while  the  heart  feels  the  sublime  moral  of  the 
picture,  the  eye  dwells  enchanted  on  the  per- 
sonal attractions  of  the  fair  penitent — the  vo- 
luptuous swell  of  her  bosom  heaving  with  re- 
pentant sighs — her  countenance  pale  with  sor- 


172 


row,  yet  in  all  the  dejection  of  grief  more 
dangerously  beautiful,  than  when  animated  with 
pleasure,  and  practising  the  Syren  smile  of 
seduction. 

Titian's  Prometheus,  is  an  idea  worthy  of 
the  author  of  the  Inferno.  Prometheus  chained 
to  a  rock  with  his  feet  in  the  air,  and  his  head 
down,  writhing  with  agony,  is  an  image  of  in- 
fernal despair,  conceived  with  as  much  strength 
of  imagination  as  any  which  enters  into  the  ter- 
rifick  visions  of  Dante. 

The  most  vigorous  and  astonishing  essays  of 
Tintoretto 's  pencil,  are  displayed  in  the  gal- 
leries and  apartments  of  the '  confraternity  of 
St.  Boch.  Tintoretto,  although  an  artist  less 
chaste  and  noble  in  his  conceptions  than  Titian, 
possessed,  however,  an  adventurous  genius, 
which  redeemed  its  offences  against  taste,  by 
dazzling  and  superlative  beauties.  The  pic- 
tures in  this  collection  exhibit  some  of  the 
most  striking  excellencies  and  defects  of  this 
master.  In  his  massacre  of  the  Innocents,  the 
rules  of  perspective  are  violated  ;  it  is  a  scene 
of  horrour  without  dignity.  But  his  great  pic- 
ture of  the  passion  in  the  sacristy,  is  one  of 
those  miracles  of  art,  which  confounds   criti- 


173 


cism,  and  is  a  signal  instance  of  the  force  of 
genius  in  striking  the  judgment  blind,  by 
beauties  of  an  overpowering  lustre. 

The  Venetians  say,  that  Napoleon  contem- 
plated enriching  the  gallery  of  the  Louvre 
with  this  picture,  but  some  difficulties  occuring 
in  the  removal  of  it,  his  intention  was  ne- 
ver carried  into  effect.  The  addition  of  this 
masterpiece  would  undoubtedly  have  sup- 
plied an  important  defect  in  the  Louvre,  which 
contained  no  work  of  this  master  strongly  mark- 
ed with  the  characteristick  excellencies  and 
defects  of   his  style. 

The  magnificent  staircase,  here,  by  PaUa- 
dio,  can  scarcely  fail  to  draw  the  attention.  It 
is  ornamented  on  the  left  with  a  painting  by 
Antonio  JVeri.  The  ideas  of  the  artist  are 
shaded  with  an  allegorical  veil,  presenting  to 
the  eye  a  confused  assemblage  of  figures. 
It  is  ennobled  by  none  of  the  graces  of 
Titian,  nor  by  any  of  the  striking  or  fulminating 
beauties  of  Tintoretto's  pencil ;  but  it  is 
peopled  with  a  variety  of  figures,  over  which 
is  diffused  a  rich  variety  of  sombre  and  bril- 
liant tints.  The  genius  of  pestilence,  carry- 
ing on  her   shoulders   a    skeleton,     does    not 


174 


create  in  the  mind  that  emotion  of  sublime  hor- 
rour,  which  is  produced  by  the  contortions 
of  Prometheus,  or  by  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Pe- 
ter, but  it  leads  us  to  conjecture,  what  traits 
of  grandeur  an  artist  of  taste  and  genius 
would  have  bestowed  on  this  terrible  per- 
sonification. 

In  a  city  so  rich  in  genuine  specimens 
of  the  arts,  we  might  expect  to  find  a  pro- 
portionable degree  of  zeal  and  industry  evin- 
ced in  their  cultivation.  Yet  notwithstanding 
the  multitude  of  objects  which  Venice  con- 
tains, to  stimulate  the  genius  and  to  culti- 
vate the  taste  of  the  artist,  painting  and 
sculpture  maintain  here  only  a  feeble  and 
languid  existence.  Napoleon  protected  and 
encouraged  them  wherever  they  came  with- 
in the  sphere  of  his  influence.  A  system 
of  publick  instruction  founded  on  true  re- 
publican principles,  libraries  and  academies 
of  art  open  to  all  ranks,  affording  to  the 
most  indigent  member  of  society  the  means 
of  liberal  improvement,  were  calculated  to 
awaken  in  the  mass  of  the  people  the  dor- 
mant energies  of  the  mind.  Now,  that  he 
no  longer  possesses  those  formidable  means 
of   annoyance,  which  fortune  and  valour  pla- 


175 


ced  within  his  grasp,  there  can  be  no  he- 
resy, at  least  there  can  be  no  danger,  in  the 
doctrine,  which  admits  the  regenerating  in- 
fluence of  his  government  in  those  countries, 
where  it  found  human  nature  in  a  state  of 
debasement.  The  disappearance  of  his  bust 
from  its  pedestal,  in  the  publick  halls  of 
painting  and  sculpture  at  Venice,  was  cal- 
culated to  inspire  with  regret  a  lover  of  the 
fine  arts,  and  to  rouse  in  the  mind  of  the 
politician  a  train  of  moral  reflections,  connected 
with  the  eventful  period,  during  which  Eu- 
rope felt  all  the  salutary  and  all  the  noxious 
influences  of  his  dominion — and  to  the  mo- 
ralist it  might  suggest  a  striking  illustration 
of  the  fugitive  and  perishable  nature  of  hu- 
man grandeur,  if  the  fortunes  of  any  indi- 
vidual, however  conspicuous,  was  of  im- 
portance enough  to  draw  the  attention,  in  a 
revolution  affecting  deeply  the  dearest  inte- 
rests of    human  nature. 

In  the  academy  of  the  arts,  I  found  a  num- 
ber of  students  engaged  in  various  academical 
exercises.  Some  with  crayons  in  their  hands 
sat  before  the  Apollo  Belvidere,  copying  that 
divine  figure — some  were  drawing  the  features 
and  head  of  the  Laocoon,  some  modelling  sta- 


176 


tues  in  clay,  and  exercising  the  first  efforts  of 
youthful  invention.  But  where  was  this  race 
of  artists  to  find  the  means  of  subsistence  ?  was 
the  question.  A  sculptor  and  painter  must 
have  churches  and  palaces  to  adorn,  and  those 
of  Venice  are  already  filled  with  the  produc- 
tions of  a  former  age,  more  propitious  than 
the  present  to  the  culture  of  the  arts — nor  doe  s 
there  appear  to  exist  any  disposition  in  the  pre- 
sent government,  to  augment  the  city  with  new 
edifices,  or  in  any  way  to  beautify  and  enlarge 
it.  Such  a  view,  perhaps,  may  not  much  damp 
the  ardour  of  a  juvenile  passion  for  distinction, 
but  after  experience  and  reflection  begin  to  cor- 
rect the  illusions  of  early  enthusiasm,  and  a 
prospect  presents  itself  to  the  artist,  different 
from  what  the  sanguine  hopes  of  youth  had 
pictured,  the  gloom  of  disappointment  acting 
upon  a  quick  sensibility  and  a  warm  imagina- 
tion, must  tend  to  extinguish  the  sources  of  that 
creative  fire,  upon  which  the  success  of  genius 
in  all  its  higher  efforts ,  so  much  depends,  j 
saw  here  many  an  ingenuous  youth,  who  was 
destined  to  experience  a  fortune  similar  to 
this — many  a  tender  flower  doomed  to  be 
crushed  by  the  rude  hand  of  adversity. 


177 


I  was  conducted  through  a  gallery  in  which 
were  lodged  the  paintings  which  had  recently 
returned  from  Paris.  The  first  piece  that  pre- 
sented itself,  was  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Peter, 
by  Titian,  which  had  been  taken  from  the 
church  of  St,  Giovanni  e  Paolo.  St.  Peter 
falls,  by  the  arm  of  an  assassin.  The  deed 
is  perpetrated  amidst  the  gloomy  shades 
of  a  thick  forest ;  his  companion  flies,  and  St. 
Peter  in  the  moment  of  expiration  raises  his 
eyes  and  beholds  above  angels  hovering  with 
palms,  and  heaven  opening  to  receive  him. 

The  next  piece  was  Paulo  Veronese's  Jupiter 
and  Europa.  This  picture  before  its  removal  to 
Paris,  adorned  the  hall  of  the  Anti  Collegio, 
in  the  ducal  palace.  The  story  of  Jupiter  and 
Europa  which  is  told  with  so  much  grace  by 
Ovid,  is  heightened  with  additional  charms  by 
the  pencil  of  Paul  Veronese.  The  countenance 
and  form  of  Europa  decked  with  chaplets  and 
garlands,  are  transcendantly  lovely.  A  beautiful 
blush  overspreads  her  cheek  ;  she  has  ventured 
to  press  the  back  of  her  lover,  who  under  the 
form  of  a  white  bull  is  couched  on  the  grass, 
and  has  turned  his  head  to  lick  the  hand  of  his 
fair  mistress. 

24 


178 


Gaudet  amans  ;  et  dum  veniat  sperata  voluptas, 
Oscula  dat  manibus. 

Entering  then  a  spacious  saloon,  I  saw  the 
painting  of  the  marriage  feast  at  Cana,  by  the 
same  master.  This  wonderful  performance  be- 
fore its  removal  to  the  musee  imperiale  at  Paris, 
hung  in  the  refectory  of  the  Benedictines  in  the 
island  of  St.  Giorgio.  In  this  painting  are  to  be 
found  united,  all  the  defects  and  excellencies  of 
Paul  Veronese's  style.  A  gallery  separating  the 
two  wings  of  a  vast  edifice,  opens  to  view 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  aerial  perspectives,  that 
can  possibly  be  imagined.  A  sky  of  the  purest 
blue,  in  which  the  light  clouds  seem  to  float, 
an  air  that  appears  to  play  around  every  ob- 
ject, are  characteristical  beauties,  which  indicate 
the  hand  of  Paul  Veronese.  The  two  wings 
are  connected  by  a  ballustrade,  along  which  are 
crowds  of  spectators  gazing  upon  the  pomp  of 
this  sumptuous  entertainment.  The  architec- 
ture of  the  edifice  is  noble,  but  the  anachro- 
nism  of  a  gothick  tower  displeases. 

The  miracle  which  is  the  ubject  of  this  paint « 
ing,  does  not  appear  to  draw  the  attention,  nor  to 
excite  the  surprise  of  any  of  the  persons  present- 


179 


The"  guests  'appear  to  be  intent  on  merely  the 
pleasures  of  the  banquet.  The  wonderful 
transformation  which  is  here  operated  by  the 
hand  of  omnipotence,  and  which  should  have 
been  made  the  leading  and  striking  incident 
in  this  scene,  is  lost  amidst  a  variety  of 
insignificant  details,  and  that  unity  and 
simplicity  upon  which  the  sublime  effect  of 
painting  so  much  depends,  is  sacrificed  to 
that  ambition  of  petty  ornament,  and  that 
ostentation  of  his  intellectual  treasures,  which 
formed  the  leading  feature  of  the  mind  of 
Paul  Veronese,  A  band  of  musicians  play- 
ing a  concerto,  groups  of  spectators,  atten- 
dants, slaves, ,  dogs,  a  parrot,  a  negro  page, 
occupy  the  foreground.  The  bride  is  beauti- 
ful and  attired  in  a  style  of  simple  elegance. 
The  dress  of  the  bridegroom  is  rich  and  mag- 
nificent. On  the  left  are  three  beautiful  wo- 
men, rendered  more  strikingly  lovely  by 
their  proximity  to  harsh  and  swarthy  faces, 
.  i  with  black  beards.  »  Over  this  motley  scene 
filled  with  objects,  all  animated  by  the  vivi- 
fying touch  of  genius,  are  diffused  those  res- 
plendent tints,  •  to  which  nothing  correspon- 
ding exists  except  in  the  creations  of  poe- 
tick   fancv. 


:>'■: 


180 


Yet  this  picture  although  the  production  of  a 
glowing  and  prolifick  imagination,  contains  such 
striking  incongruities,  and  such  bold  violations 
of  propriety,  as  all  its  beauties  can  scarcely  re- 
deem. The  edifice  in  which  the  scene  passes, 
is  a  palace,  and  together  with  the  splendid 
dresses  of  the  company,  bespeaks  a  certain  de- 
gree of  opulence  in  the  master  of  the  feast,  which 
we  are  not  authorized  to  infer  from  the  narra- 
tive of  the  evangelist.  It  is  not  the  marriage 
festival  of  a  simple  citizen  of  Gallilee,  who  had 
not  provided  a  sufficient  stock  of  wine  for  his 
guests,  but  the  sumptuous  banquet  of  a  prince 
where  every  thing  is  in  a  style  of  costly  profu- 
sion. 

I  have  been  the  more  particular  in  describing 
this  picture,  as  it  may  be  considered  assem- 
bling in  one  view  all  the  defects  and  beau- 
ties of  the  Venetian  school  of  painting,  and 
may  serve  to  explain  more  fully  some  remarks 
I  shall  have  occasion  to  make  hereafter, 
on  the  master-pieces  of  the  Roman  and  Tuscan 
artists. 

In  consequence  of  the  closeness  with  which 
Venice  is  built,  its  narrow  lanes  and  canals  are 
rarely  visited  by  the  sun-shine.     This  has  been 


181 


assigned  as  a  cause  of  the  fresh  complexions 
of  the  Venetian  women.  Like  plants,  that  never 
suffer  exposure  to  the  light,  they  are  not  im- 
pressed with  any  of  those  permanent  shades  of 
colour,  which  are  produced  by  the  action  of 
the  solar  rays  upon  the  skin.  A  moisture,  how- 
ever, which  is  never  exhaled,  renders  the  streets 
continually  filthy,  and  creates  along  the  surface 
of  its  canals,  a  sensation  of  dampness.  Fa- 
tigued by  the  dreary  and  lonely  vistas  of  canals, 
the  traveller  at  length  becomes  impatient  to  en- 
joy a  prospect  more  expanded,  and  to  breathe 
an  atmosphere  more  pure.  He  beholds  the 
Adriatick,  immediately  around  Venice,  over- 
spread with  a  multitude  of  verdant  isles  adorn- 
ed with  villas  and  churches,  and  he  is  anxious 
to  extend  the  circle  of  his  rambles. 

His  first  excursion  is  generally  to  the  island 
of  Murano,  famous  for  its  manufactories  of 
looking-glasses  afficinis  vitrariis  celeberrima. 
But,  however  great  an  object  of  curiosity 
these  might  have  been  formerly,  they  at  pre- 
sent can  have  no  noveltv  for  one,  who  has  vi- 
sited  the  extensive  glass-houses  of  France 
and  England.  Besides  the  intense  fires  and 
sooty  atmosphere  of  these  places,  and  the 
dismal  and  blackened  visages  of  the  workmen. 


182 


continually  exposed  to  their  influence,  have 
rather  a  sad  than  exhilirating  effect  upon  the 
mind.  He  quits  the  Murano,-  and  visits  in 
succession,  the  beautiful  Isles  which  appear 
to  float  upon  the  expanse  of  water  around 
him,  whose  smooth  and  polished  surface  re- 
flects their  gay  banks,  overhung  with  tall  cy- 
presses and  poplars.  Many  of  these  are  the 
seats  of  monastick  solitude,  where  super- 
stition still  broods  over  her  saints  and  re- 
licks,  and  many  of  them  were  formerly  the 
delicious  scenes   of   aristocratick   luxury. 

The  motion  of  the  gondola,  like  that  of  a 
cradle,  diffuses  a  langour  over  the  senses 
and  disposes  the  mind  to  reverie.  This  dis- 
position is  naturally  encouraged  by  the  beau- 
ty of  the  climate,  the  magical  appearance  of 
Venice,  and  the  enchanting  scenery  that  sur- 
rounds it.  Protected  from  the  direct  rays  of 
the  sun,  and  reposing  upon  cushions  of 
morocco,  the  traveller  beholds  .through  the 
lateral  windows  of  his  bark,  a  "magnificent 
expanse  of  water  spotted  with  gay  islands. 
Its  shores  adorned  with  the  grand  scenery 
cf  the  mount  tins  of  Ficenza,  and  the  culti- 
vated and  smiling  plains  of  Lombardy.  He 
sees    the   embouchure    of  the   JSrenta,    which 


' 


183 


•ashing  the  walls  of  Padua,  and  linger- 
WF* on  its  way  to  behold  many  a  stately  palace 
and  delightful  garden,  diffuses  itself  over  this 
extensive  plain  of  water.  On  the  other  side, 
he  admires  Venice,  like  a  city  separated  from 
the  continent,  and  transplanted  with  all  her 
domes  and   towers   amidst   the   waves.. 


He  dwells  upon  the  character  of  its  pre- 
sent population  devoted  to  pleasure,  and  speak- 
ing a  language  as    musical   as  the  accents  of 
poetry.     In   Venice  we  may  still   remark  the 
remains   of   that    unhappy  policy,  which  stu- 
died to  debauch   the  people  by  pleasure,  and 
lull  that  publick  vigilance    without  which  no 
republick  can  long  exist.     The  midnight   di- 
versions of  St.  Mark's,    the   splendour  of  the 
opera,   the    magnificence   of     the   Bucentaur, 
employed  in  celebrating   the  nuptials   of   the 
Doge   and  the  Adriatick,  are  all  monuments  of 
this  unhappy  policy.      But    as   the  resources 
of   the   state   declined,     the   means   of   amu- 
sing  and  gratifying  the  people  failed  with  them. 
Wretches,  with  famine  in  their   look,  are  now 
seen  soliciting  charity   among  the  gay  circles 
of    St.    Mark.     Its   carnival,   which  formerly 
drew  crowds  from  different  parts  of   Europe, 
has   lost   its  attractive   brilliancy,   and  the  Bu- 


184 


aentaur,  despoiled  of  its  decorations,  Hes  rot- 
ting in  the  arsenal.*  Near  Murano  is  the 
island  of  St.  Nicolas  di  JYido,  where  the  Doge 
heard  mass,  before  the  august  celebration  of 
his  marriage  with  the  sea,  then  mounted  in 
his  superb  galley,  attended  by  numberless  les- 
ser barges,  moved  on  in  solemn  pomp,  and 
sailing  on  a  tranquil  sea  hi  sight  of  Venice 
and  all  her  picturesque  isles,  afforded  to  the 
spectators  one  of  the  most  splendid  pageants, 
that   can  be   conceived. 

Musick  appears  still  to  be  the  delight  and 
solace  of  the  Venetians.  If  we  except  the 
opera  of  St.  Carlo  at  Naples,  and  that  of  La 
Scala  at  Milan,  there  is  no  part  of  Italy  where 
this  publick  amusement  is  more  brilliant  than 
at  Venice.  Its  great  theatre,  the  Femce,  is 
open  during  the  carnival  and  the  opera,  the 
ballet,  and  the  masquerade  following  in  suc- 
cession, allow  through  the  night  no  pause  in 
the  rapid  course  of  dissipation.     The  theatres 

*  In  my  visit  to  the  Arsenal,  I  inquired  after  the 
B  (centaur,  bat  my  cicerone  told  me  it  was  in  a  misera- 
ble state  of  delapidation,  and  conducted  me  to  see  two 
barges  superbly  gilt  and  decorated,  once  the  property 
of  Napoleon,  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Emperour 
of  Austria. 


185 


of  St,  Luca  and  St.  Benedetto  daring  the 
spring  and  summer  months,  afford  to  the  ama- 
teur a  source  of  exquisite  enjoyment.  During 
my  stay  at  Venice,  the  praises  of  Veluti  were 
in  the  mouth  of  every  person.  This  young 
Soprano  had  succeeded  to  the  popularity  of 
Marchese.  Both  sexes  concurred  in  bestow- 
ing upon  his  musical  powers,  every  epithet 
of  excellence,  but  what  was  a  little  surpri- 
sing, the  ladies  not  content  with  extolling  the 
charms  of  his  voice,  praised  the  grace  and 
gentility  of  his  person.  The  mutilated  class 
of  beings  to  which  Veluti  belongs,  are  in  ge- 
ral  characterized  by  those  outward  marks  of 
physical  imbecility  and  deformity,  by  which 
nature  commonly  manifests  her  displeasure 
at  every  contravention  of  her  laws.  He,  how- 
ever, is  an  exception  to  this  general  fact. 
His  form  though  slender  and  his  appearance 
juvenile,  are  rather  graceful  than  otherwise. 
I  know  not  what  effect  Veluti  would  have  pro- 
duced in  England  or  America,  but  the  agita- 
tion, the  enthusiasm  and  phrenzy  he  excit- 
ed in  the  Venetian  theatres,  exhibited  a  signa 
instance  of  power  over  human  passions  and 
feelings,  which  might  well  have  inspired  any  ar- 
tist with  a  proud  consciousness   of  superiority. 


25 


The  plaudits  of  a  Venetian  audience  are  indi- 
cative of  an  extravagance  of  enthusiasm,  which 
I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  seen  displayed 
in  any  of  the  French  or  English  theatres. 
This  was  the  case  at  the  performances  of  the 
celebrated  Paganinu*  The  astonishing  exe- 
cution of  this  unrivalled  artist  extorted  such 
bursts  of  applause,  as  would  in  any  other  coun- 
try have  passed  for  the  ravings  of  insanity. 
During  some  part  of  the  performance,  the  si- 

■ 
*  Paganini  executed  the  most  difficult  and  exqui- 
site pieces  of  musick  with  astonishing  effect,  upon  a 
violin  with  only  a  single  string.  His  uncommon  at- 
tainments in  musick  were  said  to  have  been  the  effect 
of  a  long  imprisonment,  as  he  is  represented  to  have 
been  originally  incapable  of  study  or  application* 
Having,  as  it  was  said,  in  a  fit  of  jealousy  assassinated 
his  mistress,  he  was  condemned  to  suffer  the  punish- 
ment of  death.  But  this  penalty  being  commuted  for 
that  of  perpetual  imprisonment,  he  devoted  himself 
exclusively  to  his  violin,  and  in  the  course  of  the  first 
six  years  of  his  confinement,  attained  a  skill  on 
that  instrument  almost  miraculous.  He  exhibited  in 
the  presence  of  many  of  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe, 
who  all  interested  themselves  in  his  behalf,  and  finally 
obtained  his  release.  He  now  travels  from  one  ex- 
tremity of  Italy  to  the  other,  assembling  wherever  he 
exhibits,  a  numerous  audience,  and  squandering  the 
tribute  his  tafents  commands  with  the  same  rapidity 
with  which  he  collects  it. 


187 


lence  was  so  profound  that  the  faintest  noise 
would  have  been  easily  perceptible.  His  au- 
dience seemed  to  hold  their  breath,  lest  a 
single  note  should  escape  them,  but  the  loud 
and  deafening  cries  of  bravissimo  Paganim,  ! 
mixed  with  such  exclamations  as  these,  Scmgue 
della  Madonna  !  e  uno  diavolo  !  passionately  voci- 
ferated and  accompanied  with  a  corresponding 
extravagance  of  gesticulation,  were  expressive 
of  those  delirious  feelings  of  which  only  the 
most  ardent  and  sensitive  natures  are  suscep- 
tible. 

I  have  observed  in  the  countenances  of  the 
lower  orders  of  the  people  at  Venice,  marks 
of  the  same  warmth  and  liveliness  of  feeling 
whenever  their  passions  were  seriously  engaged 
by  a  story,  related  in  an  affecting  manner  by 
one  of  their  orators  in  the  place  of  St.  Mark. 
Nor  did  it  seem  more  difficult  to  inspire  them 
with  emotions  of  an  opposite  kind.  They  as 
readily  yield  to  gay  impressions,  and  were 
convulsed  with  laughter  by  the  merriment  of 
Polichenello  and  Harlequin.  Nothing  can  be 
conceived  more  furious  than  the  looks,  voice 
and  gestures  of  two  gondolieres  disputing. 
They  liberally  bestow  upon  each  other  every 
vilifying  epithet.    Yet  blows  are  unusual.    This 


188 


would  lead  us  to  infer  a  cowardly  disposition 
in  these  people,  if  we  did  not  know  that 
among  them  a  blow  is  the  last  indignity,  an 
insult  never  to  be  forgiven,  and  for  which  there 
is  no  atonement  but  blood.  Yet  the  manners 
of  the  gondoliere  are  not  rough,  they  are  ge- 
nerally sprightly  and  good  humoured,  and  the 
soft  inflexions  and  harmonious  tones  of  their 
language,  appear  to  be  prompted  by  a  cha- 
racter docile  and  humane. 

The  Venetian  dialect,  although  not  suited 
to  grave  and  dignified  composition,  possesses 
a  vivacity  and  sweetness  well  calculated  to  give 
softness  to  poetry,  and  to  lend  sprightliness 
and  grace  to  comick  dialogue.  It  is  chiefly 
during  the  carnival  that  all  its  charms  are  deve- 
loped. The  talent  for  repartee  which  is  then 
provoked,  and  the  unrestrained  freedom  of  dia- 
logue, elicits  from  the  maskers  flashes  of  mer- 
riment, and  unlooked  for  flights  of  unpreme- 
ditated eloquence. 

As  there  exists  at  Venice  no  Hyde  Park, 
no  Champ  Elisees,  even  no  streets,  there  can 
of  course  be  no  room  for  the  display  of  bril- 
liant equipages,  no  field  for  the  adventurous 
exploits  of  the  charioteer  and  the  equestrian* 


189 


But  the  elegants  of  fashion,  dressed  like  gondo- 
liere,  with  rose-coloured  sashes,  display  their 
skill  in  managing  the  gondola  before  a  numerous 
concourse  of  all  ranks  of  people  on  the  quay. 
The  grace  and  address  with  which  they  propel 
the  gondola  through  the  water,  and  the  sud- 
denness with  which  they  stop  it  in  its  full  ca- 
reer, are  regarded  with  admiration  by  crowds 
of  spectators. 

The  favourite  promenade  of  the  Venetians 
extends  on  the  left  of  the  Piazzeta,  along  the 
quay  bordering  the  Adriatick.  It  was  con- 
tinued by  the  French,  who  filled  up  a  ca- 
nal and  formed  a  street  connected  by  means 
of  a  draw-bridge  with  an  island,  laid  out  in 
walks  and  planted  with  trees.  It  is  fortified 
against  the  sea  by  a  solid  work  of  masonry. 
From  this  place  is  seen  one  of  the  gayest 
views  of  Venice.  Directly  opposite  lies  the 
island  of  St.  Georgio,  and  the  dome  and  tower 
of  its  magnificent  church  rising  over  the  de- 
licious garden  of  the  Benedictins — the  point 
of  the  Dogana*  forming  one  side  of  the  en- 
trance of  the  grand  canal,  and  adorned  with 
a  beautiful  marble  edifice  by  Palladh — the  mint 
— the  facade  of  the  Ducal  palace,  behind  which 
rise  the  five  domes  of  St.  Mark's  church) 
*"  Custom  house. 


190 


form  all  together  such  a  scene  of  magnificence, 
as  cannot  readily  be  imagined.  From  my  last 
visit  to  this  place  I  returned  along  the  quay, 
that  is  washed  by  the  Adriatick.  When  I  ar- 
rived at  the  piazza  it  was  dark,  and  I  paused  for 
a  moment  to  muse  on  the  scenes  about  me. 
My  imagination  was  led  back  to  the  period  of 
time,  when  the  sea  occupied  the  place  on 
which  I  stood,  and  exulted  in  the  triumphant 
assurance  with  which  art  has  here  dared  to 
advance  her  structures  into  the  deep.  Two 
massive  columns  of  granite,  one  bearing  on 
its  summit  the  lion  of  St.  Mark,  the  other 
the  statue  of  St.  Theodore,  stand  like  gi- 
gantick  centinels  to  guard  this  scene  of  en- 
chantment from  the  rage  of  the  elements.  Be- 
neath my  feet  lay  the  dungeons  of  the  inqui- 
sition, and  I  reflected  how  many  light  hearts, 
free  and  unconfined  as  the  prospect  of  the 
sea  before  it,  had  tripped  over  the  pavement 
of  this  gay  piazza,  heedless  of  the  captive 
beneath,  pining  in  solitude  and  darkness.  I 
felt  all  the  horrours  of  slavery  exemplified 
in  these  victims  of  a  policy,  at  which  huma- 
nity shudders.  Yet  the  government  of  Ve- 
nice wore  the  semblance  of  a  republick.  It 
was  a  temple  outwardly  consecrated  to  the 
worship  of  liberty,  dressed  in  the  trophies  of 


arms,  and  of  arts,  and  decorated  with  the  splen- 
did monuments  of  valour  and  of  genius,  but 
in  its  interiour  recesses,  in  its  "  holy  of  ho- 
lies," despotism  celebrated  her  horrid  myste- 
ries. "Disguise  thyself  as  thou  wilt,  still 
"  slavery,  still  thou  art  a  bitter  draught." 

The  incessant  roll  of  carriages,  which, 
throughout  the  night,  fatigues  the  ear  in  Lon- 
don and  in  Paris,  is  a  species  of  annoyance 
unknown  in  Venice.  Every  thing  appears 
to  sleep  as  tranquil  as  the  sea  around  it, 
but  under  this  appearance  of  profound  slum- 
ber, vice  and  pleasure  are  awake,  and  like 
Comus  and  his  band,  are  invoking  the 
genius  of  darkness  to  thicken  around  them 
the  shades  of  night. 

Come  let  us  our  rites  begin, 

'Tis  only  day-light  that  makes  sin, 

Which  these  dun  shades  will  ne'er  report. 

A  conspicuous  object  at  Venice  is  her 
Arsenal.  Having  seen  her  palaces,  her  churches 
and  her  publick  resorts  of  pleasure,  the  tra- 
veller must  be  desirous  of  surveying  the 
vestiges  of  her  naval  glory,  of  which  this 
arsenal  is  a  splendid  though  faded  monument. 


192 


It  is  nearly  three  miles  in  circumference  and 
is  surrounded  with  a  high  wall,  surmounted  with 
towers  at  convenient  distances  for  centinels.  Its 
great  entrance  is  ornamented  in  a  style  of  suita- 
ble magnificence.  Before  it  are  stationed  two 
lions,  trophies,  as  an  inscription  imports,  of  the 
exploits  of  Venetian  valour  at  Athens.  These 
silent  and  motionless  centinels,  in  whose  posture 
strength  and  tranquillity  combined,  are  admira- 
bly figured,  are  appropriately  placed  before  this 
ancient  fortress  of  the  Venetian  power. 

The  magnificence  of  its  exteriour,  however, 
ill  consorts  with  the  neglect  and  disorder  ap- 
parent upon  entering  it.  Huge  piles  of  tim- 
ber thrown  down  and  carelessly  dispersed,  ves- 
sels unfinished  and  in  an  incipient  state  of 
decay,  exhalations  of  stagnant  water,  frigates 
and  seventy  fours  dismantled  and  laid  up  in 
ordnary,  composed  a  scene  of  headlong 
and  frightful  ruin.  But  in  its  repositories  of 
small  arms,  the  eye  is  gratified  by  the  symme- 
trical display  of  banners  aud  trophies  intermixed 
with  bayonets,  cutlasses,  pistols  and  carabines, 
artificially  disposed  on  the  walls  in  beautiful 
and  dazzling  figures,  representing  suns,  pyra- 
mids and  columns.  Here  are  many  curious 
specimens   of  mechanical  ingenuity,   displayed 


193 


in  attempts  to  accelerate  and  facilitate  the  ope- 
rations of  loading  and  firing,  fruits  of  that 
horrid  industry  with  which  man  has  tortured 
his  invention,  for  new  modes  of  rendering 
the  work  of  death  more  expeditious  and  com- 
prehensive. Some  specimens  also  of  the  an- 
cient fire  arms,  used  in  the  early  naval  com- 
bats of  the  Venetians,  among  which  is  a  mor- 
tar for  throwing  bombs  constructed  of  lea- 
ther !  and  a  frightful  display  of  weapons  wrest- 
ed from  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  by  the 
conquering   Venetians. 

To  a  person,  who  has  never  seen  the  great 
naval  depots  of  France  and  England,  this  ar- 
senal must  suggest  the  idea  of  a  naval  power 
once  truly  grand.  The  extent  of  space  it 
covers,  the  bold  and  masterly  skilll  displayed 
in  its  construction,  its  capacious  magazines 
for  naval  stores,  its  foundries  for  cannon,  its 
extensive  rope-walks,  its  vast  and  lofty  work- 
shops roofed  with  tile,  and  furnished  with 
every  convenience  for  building  and  launching 
ships,  are  indisputable  traces  of  a  great  ma- 
ritime people. 

Upon  these  defaced  ruins  of  a  once  pow- 
erful marine,  Buonaparte  intended   the  erection 

26 


194 


of  a  formidable  naval  force  in  the  Adriatick. 
From  the  great  collection  here  of  timber 
and  spars,  of  cannon, — from  the  large  stock 
of  raw  materials  laid  up  for  the  fabrication 
of  ropes  and  cordage, — from  the  number  of 
seventy-fours  and  frigates  of  which  he  had 
laid  the  foundation,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  contemplated  at  some  future  day  the 
resuscitation  of  Venice. 

But  all  these  mighty  preparations  for  ma- 
ritime war  appeared  to  have  suffered  the  fate 
of  a  city,  described  in  an  Arabian  tale,  where 
the  inhabitants  were  all  suddenly  transform- 
ed into  stone.  An  axe  lay  rusting  on  the 
ground,  that  seemed  to  have  fallen  from 
the  hands  of  the  workman,  in  the  act  of 
hewing  a  fallen  cypress,  destined  "to  be 
the  mast  of  some  great  admiral."  A  saw 
which  appeared  to  have  been  indefatigably 
plyed,  rested  immoveable  in  its  place,  ham- 
mers lay  scattered  about  that  had  been  used 
in  driving  ship-bolts,  which  half  projected 
from  the  sides  of  an  unfinished  seventy-four. 
The  genius  of  despotism  had  touched  it  with 
its  cold  petrifick  wand,  and  the  melancholy 
silence  that  reigned  over  the  scene  was  only 
augmented  by  the  consideration,    that  it  had 


195 


formerly  resounded  with  the  "busy  hum  of 
men." 

If  Venice  was  bruised  by  the  weight  of 
French  oppression,  her  wounds  have  not  been 
healed  by  the  mild  and  fostering  government 
of  Austria.  The  Corinthian  Hoses  have  in- 
deed been  restored  with  much  pomp  to  the 
church  of  St.  Mark,  and  the  winged  lion  that 
long  adorned  the  invalides  at  Paris,  now  looks 
from  its  granite  column  like  the  tutelary  ge- 
nius of  Venice,  over  the  expanse  of  the 
Adriatick.  The  masterpieces  of  Titian  and 
Paul  Veronese,  have  been  recovered  from  the 
hands  of  the  spoiler,  but  her  artists  no  lon- 
ger called  to  adorn  palaces,  and  to  beautify 
the   edifices  of   St.    Mark's   place>*   languish 

*  The  church  which  stood  between  the  Procuratie 
Nuove  and  the  Procuratie  Fecchie,  in  the  place  of  St. 
Mark,  and  which  so  much  injured  its  uniformity  and 
symmetry,  was  demolished  by  the  French,  and  its  place 
supplied  by  the  continuation  of  the  buildings  on  each 
side.  It  is  also  worthy  of  remark,  that  from  what 
they  here  left  unfinished,  it  must  have  been  their  in- 
tention to  renew  the  whole  facade  of  these  palaces, 
by  a  process  similar  to  that  by  which  the  front  of 
the  Louvre,  ahd  the  palace  of  Versailles  has  been 
renovated. 


196 


in  obscurity  and  want.  The  code  Napoleon 
has  been  banished  from  her  halls  of  justice, 
but  its  place  has  been  supplied  by  the  pan- 
dects of  Austria.  The  gens  cfarmes  who  suc- 
ceeded the  sbiri  of  the  state  inquisition,  have 
been  supplanted  by  a  race  of  catch- poles 
equally  unamiable  and  savage.*  Spies  and 
mouchards  of  the  true  German  and  Italian 
breed,  are  still  hired  to  mar  the  pleasures 
of  social  converse,!  and  to  hunt  their  game 
through  every  publick  and  private  assembly. 
From  all  I  could  learn,  the  discontents  of  the 
Venetians  at  present,  are  much  greater  than 
they  were  in  the  time  of  the  French.  Emi- 
grations have  been  frequent  since  the  peace, 
and  many  families  finding  themselves  unable 
to  pay  the  taxes,  have  banished  hemselves  from 

*  During  a  long  residence  in  France  under  the 
late  government,  I  have  never  had  occasion  to  witness 
in  its  gens  d'armes  such  barbarity,  as  I  have  frequently 
seen  in  the  Austrian  police  guards.  In  dragging  their 
victims  to  the  guard-house,  they  stiffled  their  remon- 
strances with  the  most  brutal  insensibility,  and  if  they 
made  the  slightest  resistance,  unfeelingly  struck  them 
on  the  back  with  the  butt-ends  of  their  muskets. 

t  What  Tacitus  calls  the  "  ultimum  in  servitute  ; 
"  adempto  per  inquisitiones  et  loquendi  audiendique 
'*  commercio." 


197 


the  seat  of  their  forefathers,  and  abandoned  theii 
splendid  dwellings  to  decay.  Besides,  it  is 
not  by  trenching  merely  on  the  ordinary  com- 
forts of  life,  that  a  people  may  be  rendered 
unhappy.  Many  persons  would  more  cheer- 
fully submit  to  a  reduction  of  their  fortunes, 
than  to  any  control  exercised  over  their  fa- 
vourite pleasures  and  inclinations.  The  late 
military  despotism  of  France  interfered  not 
at  all  with  the  amusements  of  the  people, 
on  the  contrary  it  every  where  opened  schools 
of  musick,  of  painting  and  sculpture,  and 
every  artist  of  delight  was  enlisted  in  its 
service.  If  Venice  was  despoiled  of  her 
liberty,  she  was  not  robbed  of  her  gaiety  ;  the 
same  power,  which  like  a  destroying  angel 
smote  her,  at  the  same  time  communicated 
to  her  a  force  under  which  she   suffered. 

It  is  far  from  my  intention  to  justify  the  ex- 
ercise of  lawless  dominion  in  any  instance.  I 
am  not  unacquainted  with  those  abuses  of  pow- 
er which  have  so  justly  been  made  a  ground  of 
complaint  against  the  late  government  of  France. 
I  am  no  stranger  to  its  system  of  domestick 
oppression — its  unfeeling  policy — the  contemp- 
tuous disregard  with  which  it  trampled  upon 
the  laws  and  institutions  of   other  countries, 


198 


wherever  they  impeded  the  course  of  its  rest- 
less ambition.     I  can  readily  understand  what 
ought  to  have  been  the  influence  on  the  feel- 
ings of  the  Venetians,  of  the  continual  presence  of 
a  powerful  military  force,   ready  to  crush  them, 
if  they  dared  to  resist,  and  there  is  something 
plausible   in  the   argument  that  a  government 
animated  solely  by  the  spirit  of  conquest,  should 
be  more  likely  to  violate  their  social  feelings  and 
prejudices,  than   one  whose  character  appears 
to  be  mild  and  pacifick.     But  I  cannot  adopt 
this  conclusion,  in  opposition  to  evidence  bet- 
ter calculated  to  command  my  assent,  than  any 
inference  from  a  gratuitous  assumption.     Either 
their  servitude  was  not  real,  or  there  was  a  wiz- 
zard  spell  in  the  policy  of  their  conqueror,  that 
endued  it  with  the  charms  of  liberty,  and  now 
that  the  enchantment  is  dispelled,  the  vivacity 
of  the  Venetians  which  luxuriated  in  the  rays 
of  that  delusive  brilliancy,  which  played  around 
the    late  tyranny   of    France,    languishes   and 
droops  in  the  solid  darkness  of  Austrian  oppres- 
sion. 

To  a  person  who  observes  its  total  indiffer- 
ence, with  regard  to  every  thing  connected  with 
the  restoration  and  improvement  of  Venice,  it 
would  appear,  that  the  present  government  had 


199 


faint  hopes  of  retaining  its  annexations  in  Italy, 
and  that  it  was  in  haste  to  enrich  itself  during 
the  term  of  possession.  No  measure  has  been 
adopted  by  it,  to  secure  the  allegiance  of  this 
conquered  people,  by  emulating  the  policy  of 
the  late  government,  in  embellishing  and  repair- 
ing those  great  publick  establishments  endeared 
to  the  people,  by  an  affectionate  remembrance 
of  their  former  greatness,  or  in  laying  the  foun- 
dations of  new  ones.  The  works  which  have 
been  so  auspiciously  begun  under  the  late  reign, 
remain  exactly  in  the  same  state  in  which  they 
were  left,  and  if  the  policy  of  her  present  rulers 
endures,  Venice  in  the  course  of  a  few  years 
must  be  converted,  like  Babylon,  into  pools  of 
stagnant  water,  or  like  Tyre  be  worn  away  by 
the  fluctuation  of  the  sea.  Every  wave  that 
washes  the  superb  mole  of  St.  Mark,  must 
now  accelerate  her  declension.  Her  harbour 
requires  to  be  annually  deepened,  in  order 
to  prevent  the  formation  of  Lagune*  This 
cannot  be  done  without  labour  and  expense. 
This  circumstance  alone,  must  make  her  de- 
cline rapidly  under  any  government  that  has  no 
solicitude  for  her  prosperity,  and  unhappily  it 
does  not  appear  to  be  the  policy  of  Austria, 
by  encouraging  the  trade  of  Venice,  to  create 
a  diversion  of  any  portion  of  the  profits  which 


200 


nourish  the  growth  of  Trieste,  or  to  augment 
the  resources  of  any  part  of  Italy  at  the  ex- 
pense of  those  districts,  over  which  her  own 
dominion  is  more  firmly  established.  The  ties 
of  allegiance,  therefore,  must  be  miserably 
weak  at  Venice,  who  sees  herself  excluded 
by  the  policy  of  her  ruler  from  the  full  be- 
nefit of  those  advantages,  which  once  enabled 
her  to  dispense  to  Italy  the  fruits  of  an  exten- 
sive and  productive  commerce,  and  concerning 
the  actual  condition  of  whose  trade  the  reader 
may  form  some  judgment,  when  he  is  told  that 
it  would  be  difficult  for  her  at  this  moment,  to 
reckon  more  than  three  or  four  respectable 
houses  of  commercial  credit. 

The  inhabitants  of  Venice  and  Padua,  ma- 
ny of  whom  hold  property  on  the  banks  of  the 
Brenta,  complained  that  the  necessary  and  usual 
repairs  of  that  canal  were  neglected,  in  con- 
sequence of  which,  the  neighbouring  country 
became  exposed  to  wasteful  inundations.  The 
publick  and  private  losses  consequent  on  such 
an  event,  may  be  conceived  when  it  is  remem- 
bered, that  this  is  one  of  the  richest  and  most 
highly  improved  parts  of  Italy.  Nor  were  their 
complaints  without  foundation.  Returning  by 
the  Brenta  to    Venice,   in   the  year  eighteen 


201 


hundred  and  sixteen,  I  beheld  with  inexpres- 
sible grief,  the  spectacle  which  their  anxious 
fears  had  but  too  faithfully  pictured.  The 
embankments  of  the  canal  had  in  several  pla- 
ces given  way,  and  its  waters  had  spread  them- 
selves over  a  vast  extent  of  country,  ming- 
ling in  one  extensive  ruin  the  labours  of  the 
husbandman  and  the  wrecks  of  habitations. 
I  could  not  forbear  representing  to  myself  the 
genius  of  famine,  hovering  over  the  scene 
and  feasting  her  eyes  with  this  prospect  of 
wide  spread   desolation. 

The  inert  and  passive  character  of  the  Aus- 
trian government  has  been  more  ruinous  to 
Venice,  than  the  restless  ambition  and  vigor- 
ous oppression  of  the  French.  Buonaparte 
greatly  embellished  it,  and  the  improvements 
of  which  he  has  the  sole  merit,  by  putting  in- 
to motion  a  multitude  of  hands,  which  he  found 
unemployed,  were  eagerly  interpreted  by  the 
Venetians  as  signs  of  returning  prosperity. 
While  they  saw  him  constructing  a  magnifi- 
cent garden  in  the  sea,  augmenting  the  splen- 
dour of  St.  Mark's  place,  replenishing  the 
arsenal  with  naval  stores,  building  ships,  giv- 
ing employment  to  a  multitude  of  mecha- 
nicks  and  artizans,  they  could  scarcely  help 
27 


believing  that  their  republiek  was  about  to  as- 
sert its  former  preeminence.  At  all  events, 
this  bustle,  this  activity,  this  parade,  would 
make  them  forget  their  real  condition,  nor 
would  they  readily  believe  that  a  magician, 
who  could  raise  such  powerful  phantoms  to 
deceive  them,  was  any  other  than  a  vulgar 
charlatan,  who  dealt  in  the  ordinary  sleights  of 
political  legerdemain. 

It  must  be  evident,  how  much  the  pub- 
lick  works,  in  which  the  French  engaged  with 
so  much  apparent  alacrity,  contributed  to 
sooth  the  Venetians,  while  suffering  un- 
der the  burthens  of  the  war.  To  the  com- 
mon mind  in  such  circumstances,  there  is  no 
other  standard  for  estimating  the  positive  good 
or  evil,  inherent  in  any  system  of  govern- 
ment. Admitting  that  the  return  of  peace  al- 
leviated the  weight  of  the  taxes,  and  that  the 
policy  of  Austria  does  not  necessarily  impel 
her  to  those  acts  of  violence  and  rapacity,  to 
which  the  genius  of  the  late  government  was 
frequently  compelled  to  resort,  yet,  if  by  a 
cold  penury,  she  blasts  those  hopes,  how- 
ever delusive,  which  Buonaparte  kindled 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Venetians,  even  the  most 
studied  forbearance  of  any  acts  of  positive  vic-r 


203 

fence,    will    not  secure   to  her   the  affections 
and  allegiance  of  this  subjugated  people. 

I  have  heard  it  confidently  asserted  both 
at  Venice  and  Trieste,  that  the  Emperour 
and  his  council  had  declared  that  whatever 
might  be  their  intentions  with  regard  to 
Trieste,  they  were  determined  to  leave  Ve- 
nice to  its  fate.  If  this  determination  were 
founded  solely  on  the  proximity  of  Trieste 
to  the  centre  of  the  Austrian  dominions,  it 
evinces  in  the  cabinet  of  Vienna,  the  influ- 
ence of  a  narrow  and  confined  policy,  unwor- 
thy the  rulers  of  a  great  empire,  whose  ob- 
ject it  should  be  to  reconcile  in  one  great 
scheme  of  government,  a  multiplicity  of  dis- 
cordant interests  and  feelings.  All  the  advan- 
tages which  Trieste  possesses  as  a  commer- 
cial depot  over  Venice,  might  be  balanced 
by  a  monarch  who  possesses  the  power  and 
unlimitted  resources  of  Francis,  and  surely 
it  would  be  an  act  not  unworthy  of  this  prince, 
to  rescue  one  of  the  tairest  cities  of  Europe 
from  destruction.  Might  not  Venice  under 
his  auspices,  become  again  the  great  entrepot 
of  the  wealth  of  the  Levant?  There  are  no 
impediments  to  this  event  which  a  great  so- 
vereign might  not  remove.     Again   her  wn- 


204 


tenanted  palaces  and  ruined  villas  might  become 
the  gay  retreats  of  wealth  and  fashion,  and  Pa- 
dua, Verona  and  Vicenza,  would  shake  off  the 
dust  and  revive.  I  see  nothing  in  all  this  im- 
practicable, romantick  or  visionary.  Buonaparte 
during  a  state  of  war,  had  leisure  to  perform 
miracles  of  still  greater  wonder,  and  a  prince 
whose  amiable  qualities  ought  to  insure  him  the 
love  and  attachment  of  all  his  subjects,  who  can- 
not plead  his  deficiency  of  power,  or  the  poverty 
of  his  resources,  should  not  suffer  himself  to  be 
surpassed  in  schemes  of  beneficence,  by  one 
whose  ferocious  passions  led  him  to  trample  on 
the  rights  of  other  nations,  and  whose  policy  has 
so  often  been  represented,  as  systematically  hos- 
tile to  the  prosperity  and  liberties  of  Europe. 

I  have  expressed  myself  with  some  degree  of 
warmth,  in  speaking  of  the  distress  which  pre- 
vails in  the  province  of  Istria  and  the  Venetian 
territory,  and  have  not  hesitated  to  assign  as 
its  cause,  the  character  and  views  of^the  reign- 
ing government.  I  am  ready,  however,  to  al- 
low, that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  misery 
of  which  I  have  spoken,  is  not  wholly  the  ef- 
fect of  bad  government.  I  admit  that  in  its  pro- 
duction, the  elements  have  conspired  with  the 
mischievous  policy  of  man.  The  failure  of  crops 
in  two  consecutive  years,  must  be  taken  into  ac- 


205 


count,  in  summing  up  the  causes  of  publick 
distress.  But  this  is  an  evil  which  a  wise  and 
provident  government  may,  in  some  measure, 
foresee,  and  against  which  it  ought  to  provide 
a  remedy.  Seasons  of  scarcity  are  not  unusual 
in  Italy,  but  they  have  hardly  ever  before  been 
felt  to  such  an  extent,  or  been  attended  with  con- 
sequences so  shocking  and  deplorable. 

I  am  not  disposed  to  consider  the  constitu- 
tional policy  of  Austria,  as  systematically  op- 
pressive and  unjust.  Like  all  the  old  govern- 
ments of  Europe,  it  is  pregnant  with  abuses, 
and  stands  in  need  of  reform.  Above  all,  in 
speaking  of  Germany,  I  wish  to  be  understood 
as  separating  the  character  of  its  population, 
from  the  vices  of  its  government.  No  one  che- 
rishes a  higher  respect  for  those  estimable  quali- 
ties, by  which  the  people  are  characterized. 

Germany  possessing  few  maritime  advantages, 
her  intercourse  with  other  nations  has  been  com- 
paratively limited,  and  her  manners,  customs 
and  opinions,  have  grown  up  within  her  own 
bosom.  Even  the  elements  of  her  literature 
are  wholly  original,  and  although  she  has  begun 
later  than  some  other  nations  to  cultivate  them, 
yet  in   the   higher  walks  of  composition,  and 


207 


more  especially  in  the  field  of  abstract  and  ge- 
neral speculation,  she  has  already  given  to  the 
world  specimens  of  extraordinary  vigour  of 
imagination  and  depth  of  philosophical  re- 
search. He  is  unacquainted  with  the  deep 
workings  of  the  heart  or  the  power  of  poetry, 
who  reads  unmoved  the  works  of  Goethe  and 
Schiller ;  and  as  a  gymnastick  exercise  of  the 
mind  calculated  to  form  a  robustness  of  intel- 
tellect,  there  is  none  more  invigorating  thart 
those  metaphysical  speculations,  a  taste  for 
which  has  been  so  generally  diffused  by  the  writ- 
ings of  their  great  philosopher  Kant,  and  which 
promise  more  than  any  other  cause,  to  commu- 
nicate a  tone  of  originality  and  vigour  to  Ger- 
man literature,  as  well  as  a  character  of  man- 
liness and  independence  to  the  nation.  Con- 
cerning the  amiable  temper  and  personal  virtues 
of  the  sovereign,  there  can  be  no  dispute,  and 
even  with  regard  to  those  abuses  of  authority 
which  prevail  in  the  subordinate  departments 
of  his  government,  I  am  willing  to  believe,  in 
the  majority  of  instances  they  arise  more  from 
an  overweening  attachment  to  a  scheme  of 
politicks,  not  suited  to  the  present  enlightened 
state  of  Europe,  than  from  a  spirit  overbear- 
ing and  despotick. 


203 


In  crossing  from  Venice  to  Fusina>  a  dis- 
tance of  about  five  miles,  I  frequently  turned 
to  look  back  upon  the  scenes  which  I  had  left, 
where  my  eyes  had  been  feasted  by  such  a  pro- 
fusion of  splendid  novelties,  and  my  heart 
touched  by  so  many  interesting  recollections. 
The  appearance  of  Venice  is  so  singular — its 
effect  upon  the  mind  is  so  different  from  that 
of  other  European  cities,  that  a  temporary  scep- 
ticism is  apt  here  to  prevail  over  the  judgment 
of  the  traveller,  and  he  sometimes  gazes  at  it  as 
if  to  assure  himself  that  what  he  beholds  is  not 
as  unsubstantial  as  a  vision.  The  surface  of  the 
Adriatick  was  in  a  state  of  perfect  calm,  and 
distinctly  reflected  Venice,  and  all  her  atte  nd- 
dant  Isles,  some  of  which  present  to  the  eye  no- 
thing but  detached  masses  of  architecture,  whilst 
the  delicious  and  enchanting  appearance  of  oth- 
ers suggest  to  the  imagination,  the  fairy  scene 
of  Seged's  court  on  the  lake  of  Dambea. 


209    '. 

Contemplating  Venice  under  this  grand  and 
pleasing  aspect,  and  reflecting  how  noble  a  mo- 
nument, taken  all  together,  she  exhibits  of  the 
labours  of  art  and  of  human  policy,  I  felt  dis- 
posed to  acknowledge  the  truth  of  those  praises 
which  Sannazarius  in  one  of  his  finest  raptures 
bestows  upon  her, 

Salve  Italum  Regina  altae  pulcherrima  Roma 
iEmula  quse  terris  quae  dominaris  aquis, 

Tu  tibi  vel  reges  cives,  facis.  O  Decus,0  lux, 
Ausonite,  per  quam  libera  turba  sumus 

Per  quam  Barbaries  nobis  non  imperat  et  sol 
Exoriens  nostro  clarius  orbe  nitet. 

The  Barque  courier  offers  a  cheap  and  com- 
modious conveyance  to  Padua.  But  the  em- 
bankments of  the  canal  being  high,  the  traveller, 
in  this  case,  must  forego  the  pleasure  of  observ- 
ing to  any  extent,  the  delightful  country  on 
either  side.  My  compagnon  de  voyage>  and  my- 
self, preferred  making  this  journey  in  a  carriage, 
rather  than  to  be  deprived  of  the  views  on  the 
Brenta,  of  which  we  had  read  and  heard  so 
much.  It  was  yet  the  month  of  May,  and  the 
freshness  of  the  spring  was  still  visible  upon 
every  field  and  garden.  The  poplar  of  Lom- 
bard)', had  just  expanded  its  aromatick  foliage 
to  the  gales.     The  trees  hung  with  garlands  of 


209 


the  vine,  gave  to  the  whole  country  an  appear, 
ance  of  being  decorated  for  a  fete   champetre. 

An  artificial  system  of  irrigation  clothes  the 
surface   of   Lombardy  with  a  deep  and  lux- 
uriant verdure,  which  is  exalted  by  the  bright 
azure  and  transparent  atmosphere   of  the   Ita- 
lian sky.      As  far  as  the  sight  extends,    the 
country  appeared  covered  with  palaces  and  gar- 
dens,   and  beyond  these   the   gigantick   Alps 
were  discerned  melting  in  the  distant  azure.    A 
multitude   of   light   gondolas  passing  up  and 
down  the  Brenta,  animated  the  scene,   while 
the  attention  was  at   every  moment  arrested  by 
the  gay   villages,    and    splendid   palaces    and 
villas  that  rise  upon  its  banks.     Some  of  these 
palaces  are  after  the  designs   of  Palladio  and 
Sansovino.     But  the  painted  pillars  and  figures 
which   adorn   several   of  them,  indicate  those 
corruptions  in  the  Venetian  taste,    which  were 
derived  from   the   intercourse   of    the   repub- 
lick  with    Asia.      The  palace   Pisani,  at  the 
village  of  Stra,  recently  the   residence   of  the 
ex-viceroy  of   Italy,    is  a  noble   edifice,    and 
together  with   its  superb   gardens,  is  calculat- 
ed to  give  an  exalted    idea   of  the  wealth  and 
luxury  of    the   Venetian   nobility.      Many  of 
these  mansions  which   used  to  be  the  resort 
28 


210 

of  gaiety  and  splendour,  are  now  untenanted 
and  ruinous.  The  dissolution  of  these  su- 
perb structures,  throws  a  shade  of  melancho- 
ly over  the  brilliant  landscape  immediately 
around  them,  and  the  traveller  frequently  paus- 
es to  muse  on  objects,  that  remind  him  of 
the  inconstancy  of  fortune  and  the  instability 
of  human  greatness. 

At  length  we  found  ourselves  at  the  gates 
of  Padua,  celebrated  for  its  great  antiquity, 
and  once  a  conspicuous  seat  of  learning.  As 
we  passed  under  the  arch  of  its  gigantick 
portal,  and  beheld  the  magnitude  of  its  ram- 
parts, against  wihch  Bellona  had  so  often 
stormed  in  vain  "  with  all  her  battering  en- 
gines," but  the  inevitable  fall  of  which  the 
slow,  yet  irresistible  operation  of  time  was 
now  preparing — the  loneliness  and  silence  of 
its  narrow  streets — the  sombre  architecture  of 
its  buildings,  with  their  dark  and  heavy  por- 
ticoes— we  called  to  mind  the  scenes  we  had 
just  passed,  and  regretted  that  we  were  now 
compelled  to  exchange  for  the  gloom  inspir- 
ed by  these  objects,  the  pleasures  afforded  by 
the  views  of  the  Brenta.  We  alighted  at  the 
door  of  an  inn,  in  which  we  found  excellent  ac- 
commodation, and  employed  the  remainder  of 


211 


the  day  in  viewing  the  city  and  its  environs, 
A  great  city  not  peopled  to  its  full  extent,  is 
a  cheerless  object,  and  the  thinly  populated 
streets  of  Padua,  of  course,  excited  a  train 
of  melancholy  feelings.  It  was  serious  to  re- 
flect, how  Padua  had  dwindled,  while  other 
cities  grew  and  flourished.  It  afforded  a  still 
sadder  subject  for  speculation,  to  see  her  re- 
duced to  a  state  so  low  in  the  midst  of  a 
country  apparently  so  favoured  and  abundant. 
Not,  could  such  reflections  fail  to  lead  us  to 
the  conclusion,  that  until  Italy  be  restored 
to  the  light  of  liberty,  and  feel  the  invigo- 
rating influence  of  one  powerful  and  protect- 
ing government,  she  must  continue  to  ex- 
perience the  curse  of  poverty  and  servitude. 
It  is  the  nature  of  all  great  cities  to  attract 
to  them,  the  revenues  of  the  distant  provin- 
ces, and  to  drain  them  of  their  population, 
and  when  Venice  was  strong  and  prosper- 
ous, and  extended  her  dominion  over  the 
neighbouring  part  of  Italy,  Padua  must  have 
drooped  under  the  shade  of  her  greatness.  But, 
if  Venice  should  now  revive,  Padua  would 
be  the  first  to  feel  the  glorious  influence  of 
her  resurrection.  Her  wealth  would  flow  up 
the  canal  of  the  Brenta,  to  animate  and  beau- 
tify the  villas  on  its  banks,  and  not  as  now, 


212 

pass  from  the  feeble  hand  of  penury,  into  the 
vigorous  and  insatiable  grasp  of  avaricious 
opulence. 

Padua,  even  after  its  reduction  to  the  yoke 
of  the  Roman  power,  was  eminent  for  the  riches 
of  its  commerce  and  its  numerous  popula- 
tion. Of  this  the  histories  of  Tacitus  and 
Livy  afford  satisfactory  evidence.  When  the 
Huns  poured  into  the  north-east  of  Italy,  and 
death  and  desolation  followed  the  footsteps  of 
their  leader  Attila,  part  of  the  population  of 
Padua,  alarmed  by  the  fate  of  Aquileia,  fled 
in  consternation  to  the  neighbouring  isles  in 
the  Adriatick  sea,  there  uniting  with  the  Ve- 
neti,  a  people  dispersed  along  its  border,  and 
the  inhabitants  of  Aquileia,  they  laid  the  foun- 
dations of   the   future   greatness  of    Venice. 

At  the  dawn  of  science  and  freedom,  Pa- 
dua became  distinguished  among  the  other 
republicks  of  Italy  by  her  zeal  for  letters,  and 
her  devotion  to  liberty.  But  the  atmosphere 
of  free  states  is  the  element  of  vigorous  and 
aspiring  talents,  and  there  were  not  wanting 
in  Padua,  individuals  who  usurped  the  su- 
preme authority  and  exercised  with  abuse. 
Yet  these   men,     who  trampled  upon    the  li- 


212 


berties  of  their  country,  protected  genius  and 
encouraged  polite  literature.  Petrarch  was 
patronised  by  Pandolpho  di  Carrara,  and  learn- 
ing counts  among  its  most  zealous  suppor- 
ters the  Scaligeri  family.  In  the  fifteenth 
century  Padua,  although  she  kept  her  own 
municipal  laws,  surrendered  her  political  in- 
dependence, and  yielded  the  ascendant  to  the 
rising  genius  of  Venice. 

Padua  occupies  an  extent  of  ground  about 
seven  miles  in  circumference,  and  at  present 
contains  from  twenty-five  to  thirty  thousand 
inhabitants.  Though  inferiour  to  the  majo- 
rity of  Italian  cities  in  point  of  architectu- 
ral beauty,  some  of  its  edifices,  however,  are 
not  undeserving  of  notice.  The  hall,  for 
instance,  of  the  palace  of  justice,  is  remark- 
able for  its  spaciousness,  but  more  so  for  its 
immense  ceiling,  three  hundred  feet  long,  and 
one  hundred  broad,  extended  over  the  head 
of  the  spectator  without  the  support  of  co- 
lumns. It  contains  a  bust  of  Livy  with  a 
latin  inscription,  less  remarkable  for  its  ele- 
gance, than  the  strong  and  ardent  admira- 
tion it  evinces  for  the  prince  of  historians, 
who  from  some  provincialisms  in  his  style, 
appears  to  have  been  a  native  of  Padua.     The 


214 

church  of  St.  Antonio  is  a  huge  mis-shapen 
mass  of  architecture,  but,  covered  with  the 
awful  hoar  of  ages,  even  its  deformity  is  ve- 
nerable, and  its  gloomy  and  irregular  aspect 
possesses  a  grandeur,  which  affects  the  mind 
like  the  dark  and  sullen  majesty  of  winter. 
The  embrowning  effect  of  time  on  edifices, 
that  have  for  centuries  resisted,  by  their  soli- 
dity, the  power  of  the  elements,  rarely  fails 
to  obtain  for  them  a  place  in  our  affections. 
The  interiour  of  St.  Antonio  is  adorned  with 
some  paintings  of  Giotto,*  whose  expression 
and  colouring  still  glow  through  the  dim  veil 
of  time.  The  shrine  of  the  saint  is  hung  on 
each  side  with  votive  offerings,  and  overload- 
ed with  other  uncouth  ornaments  intermixed 
with  the  most  beautiful  sculpture.  In  the 
square  before  the  church,  stands  an  eques- 
trian statue  in  bronze  of  the  illustrious  ge- 
neral   Gattamelata,  by  Donatello. 

The  church  of  St.  Justina  is  a  masterpiece 
of  Palladio.  The  martyrdom  of  the  saint, 
over  the  altar,  is  by  Paul  Veronese.  The  ef- 
fect  of   its  elegant  proportions  is  not  a  little 

*  Giotto  fu  il  primo,  ch'alla  dipintura, 
Gia  lungo  tempo  inorta,  desse  la  vita. 


215 


heightened  by  the  extreme  cleanliness  appa- 
rent throughout  this  vast  edifice,  and  by  the 
care  which  is  employed  in  preserving  its  pic- 
tures and  ornaments  from  dust  and  discolora- 
tions.  The  publick  piazza  called  Prate  della 
valley  near  the  church  of  St.  Justina,  is  re- 
markable for  its  beauty  and  dimensions,  and 
the  statuary,  which  adorns  it,  is  a  testimony  of 
that  liberality  and  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
letters,  which  I  before  remarked  as  eminent- 
ly distinguishing  the  city  of  Padua. 

The  buildings  of  the  university  were  de- 
signed by  Palladio.  Its  halls  of  dissections, 
its  gallery  of  anatomy,  the  extent  of  its  philo- 
sophical apparatus,  all  correspond  with  the 
universal  fame  of  this  institution.  Belonging 
to  this  establishment  is  a  botanical  garden,  ar- 
ranged according  to  the  system  of  Toumefort. 
The  beauty  of  the  season  rendered  irresista- 
bly  inviting  a  place,  where  the  collected  beau- 
ties of  the  whole  vegetable  kingdom,  exaled 
their  sweets  and  displayed  their  rival  colours 
to  the  sun.  The  university  of  Padua  dispens- 
ed liberal  science,  not  only  to  the  christian 
world,  but  to  the  Mahometan  nations.  The 
learning,  fame  and  talents  of  its  professors, 
and  the   number  of   youth   of  all  ranks  and 


216 

nations,  that  resorted  to  it  for  instruction,  ob- 
tained for  it  such  a  rank  in  the  estimation  of 
the  world,  as  scarcely  any  institution  of  learn- 
ing, before  or  since  enjoyed.  The  walls  of 
the  arcades  and  porticoes  are  emblazoned 
with  images  of  foreign  and  Italian  heraldry, 
and  this  multitude  of  armorial  ensigns,  is  a 
noble  testimony  of  its  former  dignity  and 
splendour. 

My  curiosity  was  alive  to  every  circum- 
stance, connected  with  this  once  flourishing 
abode  of  the  muses.  Here  Petrarch  studied  the 
classick  writers  of  antiquity,  and  Gallileo  fill- 
ed its  chair  of  astronomy.  Nor  can  there  be 
any  recollection  associated  with  it,  more  grate- 
ful to  the  mind  of  an  American,  than  that 
Christopher  Cobumbus  here  studied  the  prin- 
ciples of  navigation,  which  he  afterwards  ap- 
plied to  the  succesful  prosecution  of  an  en- 
terprise, which  has  been  productive  of  more 
glorious  consequences  to  posterity,  than  that 
philosophical  courage,  which  impelled  the  mind 
of  Gallileo  into  the  regions  of  space,  to  ex- 
plore the  mysterious  mechanism  of  the  hea- 
vens. 

The  prospect  from  the  top  of  the  asfrono- 
mical   observatory  is  extensive,  and   includes 


217 

the    Brenta    and    the    Bacchiglione,    winding 

through  the  fertile  and  cultivated  environs  of  Pa- 
ss 

dua,  the  Alps  and  the  Euganean  hills.  The  mag- 
nitude of  the  latter  is  diminished  by  their  prox- 
imity to  the  former,  which  wail  the  northern 
frontier  of  Lombardy.  The  wild  majesty  of 
this  range  of  mountains,  sets  off  to  advan- 
tage the  country  below,  to  which  the  art  of 
man  has  given  the  softer  attractions  of  culti- 
vation. 

About  six  miles  distant  from  Padua,  the 
warm  springs  of  Abano  issue  from  the  foot  of 
the  Euganean  hills.  Their  sources  are  abun- 
dant, and  the  quantity  of  vapour  that  rises 
from  them,  gives  to  the  scenery  a  singular  ap- 
pearance ;  for  the  soil  about  it  looks  as  if  it 
were  smoking  from  a  recent  conflagration. 
The  water  fumes  and  bubbles  like  liquor  in  a 
cauldron.  An  egg  immersed  in  it  became  boil- 
ed in  the  space  of  three  minutes.  This  water- 
ing place  at  a  certain  season,  is  the  resort  of  the 
beauty  and  fashion  of  Padua  and  Venice.  The 
accommodations  are  commodious  and  elegant. 
The  edifice  is  spacious,  and  divided  into  nume- 
rous apartments  adapted  to  guests  of  every 
rank.  The  baths  themselves  are  of  white  mar- 
ble, and  receive  the  water  immediately  from 
29 


218 

extensive  reservoirs,  where,  by  exposure  to  the 
atmosphere,  it  is  rendered  sufficiently  tempe- 
rate for  the  purposes  of  bathing. 

At  Abano  we  inquired  the  road  to  Petrarch's 
villa.  Our  landlord  informed  us  that  the  inter- 
mediate country,  afforded  no  road, for  a  car- 
riage, and  that  unless  we  travelled  with  a  guide 
it  would  be  impossible  to  find  our  way  to  the 
village  of  Arqua,  where  exist  the  tomb  and 
last  residence  of  the  poet. 

He  then  chose  for  our  guide,  a  respectable 
looking  old  man.  We  left  Abano  before  sun- 
rise. The  scene  was  not  one  of  those  glowing 
landscapes  of  Claude  Lorraine,  where  a  sultry 
morning  is  bursting  in  dazzling  effulgence  upon 
the  extensive  Campagna,  and  exhaling  rapidly 
the  dews.  The  appearance  of  the  sun  was  pre- 
ceded by  refreshing  breezes.  The  only  luminous 
objects  visible,  were  the  eminences  of  the  Vi- 
centian  Alps,  while  a  deep  shade  still  involved 
the  Euganean  hills.  As  we  passed  along,  we 
were  exhilirated  by  the  notes  of  the  lark,  tow- 
ering above  our  heads,  and  refreshed  by  the 
breath  of  wild  flowers  that  grew  upon  the  sides 
of  the  road,  which  winded  among  hills  and  val- 
lies  where  even   th  e  genius  of  Petrarch  might 


21$ 


have  gathered  happy  materials  for  poetry. 
Sometimes  it  lay  along  the  confines  of  a  lordly 
palace,  and  gardens  peopled  with  statues  and 
murmuring  with  fountains.  At  another  time,  it 
passed  through  a  miserable  village,  where  a 
half-clothed  servile  population  instantly  gather- 
ed round  us,  and  in  their  eagerness  to  kiss  our 
hands  and  to  obtain  some  boon  of  charity,  near- 
ly threw  themselves  beneath  our  horses  feet. 

At  length  we  arrived  at  the  little  town  of 
drqua,  romantically  situated  upon  a  hill,  on 
one  side  of  which  stands  the  mansion  of  the 
poet.  We  found  it  in  a  state  of  lamentable  de- 
cay, and  it  was  not  without  concern,  we  viewed 
the  ruinous  condition  of  the  hallowed  residence 
of  Petrarch.  Yet  objects  consecrated  by  worth 
and  genius,  have  an  inspiring  influence,  and  a 
place  so  often  visited  by  poetick  inspiration, 
can  hardly  fail  to  excite  in  a  mind  of  the  least 
taste  and  sensibility,  many  tender  and  pleasing 
associations.  Adjoining  the  house  were  a  few 
acres  of  grain,  interspersed  with  fruit  trees  and 
skirted  by  a  wood.  The  plaintive  warblings 
of  some  birds  collected  in  its  shade,  brought 
to  my  mind  the  following  tender  verses  of 
the  poet; 


220 

Se  lamentar  augelli,  o  verdi  fronde 
Mover  soavemente  all'aura  estiva, 
O  roco  mortnorar  di  iucid'  onde 
S'ode  d'una  fiorita,  e  fresca  riva; 

La  Vio  seggia  d'amor  pensoso,  e  scriva  : 
Lei  che  '1  Ciel  ne  mostro,  terra  n'asconde, 
Veggio,  ed  odo,  ed  intendo. 

The  house  consists  of  an  antichamber  which 
is  used  as  a  kitchen,  a  hall,  a  smaller  apart- 
ment and  a  study.  In  the  hall  remain  some 
faded  frescoes,  in  which  the  visitor  recognises 
the  figure  of  Petrarch,  in  his  canonical  ha- 
bit. The  subjects  of  these  old  paintings  relate 
to  incidents  in  the  history  of  that  passion 
which  consumed  his  life,  and  gave  birth  to 
those  pure  and  exquisite  effusions  of  poetry, 
which  place  the  name  of  Petrarch  above  that 
of  any  of  the  ancient  or  modern  amatory  bards. 
The  smaller  apartment  is  connected  with  the  stu- 
dy, and  a  tower  from  a  balcony,  in  which  there  is 
a  prospect  of  the  neighbouring  vallies.  Over 
the  sides  of  this  ruin,  the  honeysuckle  mixed 
with  the  ivy,  wantoned  in  gay  luxuriance. 
The  interiour  walls  are  covered  with  Italian  and 
Latin  inscriptions,  left  here  as  a  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  the  poet.  In  the  study  remain  his 
ink-standish  and  the  arm-chair  in  which  he  ex- 
pired. The  old  woman  who  inhabited  the  house 


221 


handed  us  a  large  album  containing  the  names 
of  all  the  ,persons,  who,  from  an  early  period, 
have  visited  this  sanctuary  of  genius,  each  name 
accompanied  with  some  tributary  effusion  in 
verse  or  prose.  We  inscribed  our  names,  and 
left  the  following  lines,  which  were  written  from 
the  ink-standish  of  the  poet. 

Hail  sacred  spot,  where  sunk  to  holy  rest 
The  flame  that  burnt  in  Petrarch's  gentle  breast, 
"Where  ev'ry  kind  and  gen'rous  virtue  dwelt, 
And  love  and  piety  by  turns  were  felt. 
Hail  classick  bard,  at  whose  enchanting  strain, 
The  muse  of  Italy  reviv'd  again. 
Though  here  no  monument  with  pomp  sublime 
Adorn  thy  grave,  yet  o'er  the  power  of  time, 
Thy  name  shall  triumph  still,  and  future  days 
Shall  heap  with  honours  thy  immortal  lays. 
Thy  mistress  too,  shall  share  thy  deathless  fame, 
And  Laura  live  embalm'd  in  Petrarch's  name.* 

*  I  do  not  insert  these  verses  for  the  purpose  of  chal- 
lenging criticism.  On  the  contrary,  I  flatter  myself, 
they  will  be  received  with  the  indulgence  due  to  an  un- 
premeditated effusion.  We  could  not  learn,  that  any 
American  had  ever  visited  this  spot  before,  and  there 
are  few  Italian  admirers  of  this  poet,  who  have  not 
yet  to  be  instructed,  that  in  America  we  are  not  whol- 
ly ignorant  of  the  fame  of  Petrarch,  nor  insensible  te> 
the  charms  of  his  poetry. 


222 

Although  there  are  few  private  palaces  of 
any  note  in  Padua,  yet  the  country  around 
abounds  with  splendid  edifices  and  delicious 
gardens.  Returning  from  Arqua,  we  were 
attracted  by  the  sumptuous  palace,  and  gar- 
dens of  Michieli.  The  day  being  rather  sul- 
try, and  the  road,  for  the  greater  part,  open 
and  exposed  to  the  rays  of  the  sun,  the  sight 
of  shades  and  thickets  was  irresistibly  invi- 
ting, and  we  descended  from  our  horses  in- 
to a  covert  of  groves  and  thickets,  where  our 
eyes  were  amused  with  a  diversity  of  jets  d'eait^ 
which  exhibited  a  scene,  as  playful  and  as 
fantastick,  almost,  as  that  of  Versailles.  The 
palace  of  Obizzi  at  Catajo,  is  a  castellated  edifice, 
situated  on  a  rising  ground,  adorned  with  bat- 
tlements and  turrets,  and  other  appendages  of 
Gothick  magnificence.  The  park  is  exten- 
sive, and  stocked  with  a  variety  of  animals. 
The  most  remarkable  object  on  the  road  f  rom 
Padua  to  Ferrara,  is  the  ruins  of  the  castle 
of  Monselice.  These  vast  fortifications  must 
have  worn  a  formidable  aspect,  during  the 
prevalence  of  the  feudal  times  in  Italy,  and 
even  in  their  present  delapidated  condition,  pre- 
sent such  a  scene  of  gothick  grandeur,  as  might 
well  suggest  to  the  invention  of  the  novelist, 
some  terrifick  tale  of  romance.      We  hired  a 


223 
-. 
guide  to  conduct  us  over  them.  As  we  ascend-- 
ed  the  hill  on  which  they  stand,  we  stopped  in  a 
wood  to  listen  to  the  evening  song  of  the  night- 
ingale, and  turned  to  comtemplate  the  beauty 
of  the  fading  landscape.  At  our  feet  lay  the 
extensive  plains  of  Lombardy.  Behind  the 
dark  profile  of  the  western  hills,  the  sky  still 
retained  a  glow  of  saffron  light,  which  gave 
the  softest  touches  to  the  woods  and  ruins 
of  Monselice.  As  we  wandered  among  them, 
my  imagination  could  not  forbear  recurring 
to  the  manners  and  usages  of  the  age,  in  which 
it  was  built,  and  peopling  it  with  the  phan- 
toms of  valour  and  of  beauty  ;  and  as  the  ob- 
jects around  us  grew  more  indistinct,  I  felt 
disposed  to  yeild  to  all  the  superstition  of  ro- 
mance, and  to  indulge  the  recollection  of 
those  midnight  and  terrifick  visions,  which 
have  turned  me  pale,  when  a  boy,  as  I  hung 
with  delicious  horrour  over  the  pages  of  Mrs,. 
Radcliffe. 

Leaving  Monselice,  and  turning  jinto  the 
road  on  the  left,  we  lost  sight  of  the  amusing 
windings  of  the  Brenta  and  Bacchiglione.  As 
we  approached  the  Roman  territories,  the  coun- 
try became  less  populous,  and  began  to  wear 
an  appearance  less    flourishing    and  gay.      If 


224 


■ 

the  impressions  were  comparatively  sorrowful, 
which  we  received  from  the  face  of  the  coun- 
try, they  were  not  a  little  heightened  by  the 
spectacle  of  misery  it  frequently  presented.  Ro- 
vigo  is  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  fertile  coun- 
try, but  has  an  air  of  desolation,  arising  from 
its  want  of  inhabitants,  which  ill  agrees  with 
its  situation  in  a  soil  so  eminently  favoured. 

Ferrara  is  in  a  still  more  inanimate  state 
of  existence.  Its  vacancy  and  silence  oppress 
the  imagination,  and  are  heightened  by  the 
recollection  of  the  picture  of  its  former  gaiety 
and  splendour,  under  the  house  of  Este.  The 
noblest  and  most  affecting  monuments  in  this 
city,  are  the  tomb  of  Ariosto,  and  the  hospital 
in  which  Tasso,  during  his  madness  was  con- 
fined. Ariosto,  whose  powerful  fancy  refract- 
ed every  ray  of  thought  into  the  brilliant  hues 
of  poetry ;  and  Tasso,  who  combined  the 
riches  of  Ariosto' s  fancy,  with  the  classick  ele- 
gance of  the  Roman  bard.  The  latter,  less 
versatile  in  his  disposition  than  the  former,  ap- 
pears to  have  been  less  capable  of  accommoda- 
ting his  mind  to  the  ordinary  occurrences  of 
life.  He  lived  under  the  delusions  of  a  vivid  and 
headstrong  fancy,  and  yielded  without  resis- 
tance,  to  the  overpowering    influence    of   an 


225 


ardent  sensibility.  Born  with  every  personal 
and  intellectual  gift,  that  attracts  admiration, 
young,  handsome  and  chivalrick,  Tasso  in 
the  bloom  of  his  faculties,  and  in  the  meridian 
of  his  fame,  fell  a  victim  to  those  constituti- 
onal defects  of  mind,  which  nature  seems  to 
have  blended  with  the  original  stamina  of  his 
genius.  All  those  qualities,  which  rendered 
him  estimable  as  a  poet,  were  serious  impedi- 
ments to  the  acquisition  of  that  flexibility  of 
character,  without  which  fortune  or  distinction 
are  rarely  acquired  at  court,  and  a  consciousness 
of  intellectual  superiority,  led  him  to  despise 
the  creatures  that  surrounded  Alfonso,  and  even 
to  regard  his  patron,  as  a  man  of  sordid  views 
and  narrow  capacity.  These  weaknesses  in 
the  mind  of  the  author  of  Jerusalem  Delivered, 
lead  us  to  the  source  of  those  vicissitudes  of 
fortune,  which  diversified  his  life  with  such 
rapid  alternations  of  happiness  and  misery. 
The  sense  of  his  misfortunes,  operating  upon 
a  warm  imagination  and  a  tender  sensibility, 
disordered  his  reason,  and  the  phantoms  of 
madness  took  possession  of  that  mind,  once 
pregnant  with  the   treasures  of   poetry. 

Reflection   on  the   lives  of  many  persons, 
who  were  gifted  with  the  rarest  endowments, 

30 


^26 


cannot  but  tend  to  humble  the  pride  of  genius. 
Milton  in  his  old  age,  blind  and  infirm, 
abandoned  to  solitude  and  detraction,  sink- 
ing into  ."the  grave  unpitied  and  unknown,'' 
and  Tasso  in  the  weeds  of  a  beggar,  seeking 
an  asylum  in  the  house  of  a  poor  sister,  are 
awful  and  instructive  lessons  to  powerful  and 
ambitious  minds.  Yet  the  poet  is  sometimes 
sustained  under  the  burthen  of  misfortune,  by 
the  pleasures  he  derives  from  the  practice  of  his 
art,  and  the  prospect  of  immortal  renown,  be- 
fore which  the  most  formidable  obstacles  va- 
nish, which  poverty  and  the  envy  of  the  world 
can  oppose  to  the  energies  of  his  mind.  An 
illustrious  instance  of  this  invincible  love  of 
glory  was  Milton,  from  whose  mind  the  in- 
cumbrances of  fortune  were  shaken,  "  like 
dew  drops  from  a  lion's  mane."  But  to  Tasso, 
how  forcibly  do  the  following  pathetick  lines 
of  Lycidas  apply. 

Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise, 
(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds,) 
To  scorn  delight  and  live  laborious  days. 
But  the  fair  guerdon,  when  we  hope  to  find, 


227 


And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze, 
Comes  the  blind  fury  with  the  abhorred  shears, 
And  slits  the  thin  spun  life.* 

= 
The  mind  turns  with  horrour  and  compas- 
sion from  the  view  of  the  place,  where  this  fiery 
and  expansive  soul,  loaded  with  indignities  and 
humbled  by  misfortune,  often  invoked  the 
hand  of  death  to  put  a  period  to  its  sorrows. 

The  people  of  Ferrara  appear  to  move  along 
their  streets  more  by  the  mechanical  impulse 
of  habit,  than  in  consequence  of  those  feelings 
and  sentiments,  that  govern  and  direct  the  ac- 
tions of  beings,  that  possess  an  intellectual  ex- 
istence. In  the  seats  before  the  coffee-houses 
were  persons  in  whose  looks  were  painted,  all 
the  misery  of  ennui.  Human  nature  vegi- 
tates  in  the  atmosphere  of  Ferrara.  Man  is 
incommoded  by  those  endowments  which  ele- 
vate him  in  the  scale  of  being.  Those  intel- 
lectual powers  which  he  finds  too  circumscrib- 
ed for  the  objects  of  a  noble  ambition,  when 
fired  by  that  animating  prospect  which  liber- 
ty opens  to  his  view,  becomes  to  him  a  source 

*  Tasso  died  at  Rome  in  the  convent  of  St.  Ono- 
phrio,  the  night  preceding  the  day  appointed  for  his 
coronation  in  the  capital. 


228 

of  painful  and  unprofitable  restlessness,  in  a 
state  of  society  that  affords  no  room  for  their 
exertion. 

My  companion  and  myself  after  viewing  the 
palace  of  its  ancient  Dukes,  which  is  a  vast 
castle,  then  surveyed  the  extensive  fortifica- 
tions around  the  city.  Their  moats  have 
spread  into  extensive  marshes  overgrown  with 
rushes,  and  filled  with  a  multitude  of  frogs, 
whose  incessant  and  melancholy  croakings,  ad- 
ded not  a  little  to  the  sadness  inspired  by  the 
air  of  this  deserted  city. 

The  environs  of  Balogna  are  flourishing  and 
animated.  Upon  the  poplars  and  mulberry 
trees  that  border  the  road,  the  vine  hangs  in 
gay  festoons.  The  country  was  covered  with 
orchards  and  fields  of  grain,  and  towards  the 
Appenines  it  rose  into  hills  clothed  with  ver- 
dure and  adorned  with  beautiful  and  striking 
edifices.  Upon  one  of  the  most  airy  and  con- 
spicuous of  those  eminences,  is  an  unfinished 
palace,  said  to  have  been  destined  for  Eugene 
Beauharnois  when  viceroy  of  Italy.  Upon 
another,  stands  the  celebrated  church  of  the 
Madonna  di  St.  Luca,  three  miles  from  Bologna. 
A  portico  consisting  of  seven  hundred  arcades 


229 


reaches  from  it  to  the  gate  of  the  city.  The 
church  itself  is  magnificent,  and  its  interiour 
splendidly  decorated ;  but  its  brightest  orna- 
ment is  the  portrait  of  the  Madonna,  painted 
by  St.  Luke. 

On  entering  Bologna  we  found  the  front  of 
many  of  the  houses  in  the  principal  streets  orna- 
mented with  tapestry  and  crimson  damask,  and 
were  informed,  that  this  was  preparatory  to  the 
fete*  of  the  Madonna  di  St.  Luca.  The  religious 
festivals  of  the  Italians  are  always  gay.  In 
this  beautiful  climate  even  superstition  appears 
to  throw  off  her  savage  melancholy,  and  no 
longer  delighting  in  monastick  solitude  and 
the  sacrifice  of  human  ties,  she  seems  pleased 
to  be  decked  with  flowers,  and  to  be  celebrated 
by  the  gay  revels  of  mirth  and  innocence.  To 
the  taste  of  a  person  educated  in  all  the  severi- 
ty of  protestantism,  and  accustomed  to  the  sim- 

*  Once  a  year  at  Bologna,  the  portrait  of  the  Virgin 
is  conveyed  with  great  pomp  from  the  church,  where  it 
is  deposited  into  the  city,  and  placed  upon  the  altar  of 
the  cathedral.  The  procession  from  the  time  it  leaves 
the  church  till  its  arrival  at  the  gates  of  the  city,  is  co- 
vered by  a  portico,  which  considering  its  length,  is  one 
of  the  greatest  curiosities  of  art  in  Italy . 


230 


plicity  and  austere  solemnity  of  its  worship, 
the  gay  spirit  and  brilliant  ceremonies  of  the 
eatholick  church,  appear  objectionable,  as  con- 
verting what  should  be  an  exercise  of  the  high- 
cr  affections  of  the  soul,  into  a  mere  spectacle 
for  the  imagination  and  the  senses.  But  I  must 
confess,  that  the  peasant  boys  and  girls  dressed 
ill  garlands,  who  came  to  assist  at  the  proces- 
sion of  the  Madonna,  did  not  fill  my  imagina- 
tion with  images  more  gay  and  beautiful,  than 
the  impressions  made  upon  it  by  the  solemnities 
of  high  mass  in  the  cathedral,  were  sublime 
and  imposing.  The  portrait  of  the  Virgin 
was  placed  upon  the  great  altar,  which  on  this 
occasion  shone  with  unusual  brilliancy  of  deco- 
ration. The  dimensions  of  the  picture  were 
so  small  and  its  colours  so  faded,  that  at  the 
distance  I  stood  from  the  altar,  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  discern  any  outline  of  a  human  counte- 
nance. But  the  interiour  of  a  vast  temple 
magnificently  decorated  and  perfumed  with  in- 
cense— the  venerable  cardinal  archbishop  kneel- 
ing before  the  altar, — an  immense  crowd  actua- 
ted by  one  sentiment  of  devotion,  bowing  be- 
fore an  humble  relick,  hallowed  to  them  by  tra- 
dition, and  consecrated  by  those  associations 
which  connect  the  human  affections  with   the 


231 


aivine,*  was  a  spectacle  no  less  sublime  to  the 
imagination,  than  consolotary  to  the  heart.  A 
deep  and  awful  silence  prevailed  for  some  mo- 
ments, till  the  organ  rising  from  a  low  sym- 
phony, and  swelling  by  degrees  into  full  har- 
mony, accompanied  by  a  chorus  of  angelick 
voices,  seemed  to  waft  the  prayers  of  this  mul- 
titudinous assembly  to  heaven. 

The  impression,  however,  made  by  this  spec- 
tacle was  not  a  little  impaired  by  the  presence 
of  a  military  force,  stationed  ostensibly  for  the 
purpose  of  restraining  the  press  that  obstructed 

*  "  The  histories  of  the  follies  and  caprices  of  super- 
"  stition  direct  our  attention  to  those  sacred  and  indelible 
"  characters  on  the  human  mind,  which  all  these  perver- 
"  sions  of  reason  are  unable  to  obliterate  ;  like  that  image 
"  of  himself,  which  Phidias  wished  to  perpetuate,  by 
"  stamping  it  so  deeply  on  the  buckler  of  his  Miner - 
"  va  ;  '  ut  nemo  delere  posset  aut  divellere,  qui  totam 
u  statuam  non  imminueret.'  Where  are  the  other  truths. 
"  in  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences,  which  "are  so  es- 
"  sential  to  human  happiness,  as  to  procure  an  easy  ac- 
"  cess,  not  only  for  themselves,  but  for  whatever  opi- 
"  nions  may  happen  to  be  blended  with  them  ?  Where 
"  are  the  truths  so  venerable  and  commanding,  as  to  im- 
"  part  their  sublimity  to  every  trifling  memorial,  which 
1  recals  them  to  our  remembrances. ' 

Dugald  Stewart's  Philosophy  of  the  Mind. 


the  avenues  leading  to  the  altar.  It  put  me  too 
much  in  mind  of  what  I  had  often  witnessed  at 
Paris,  where  there  was  so  continual  a  call  for 
the  terrours  of  a  military  despotism,  to  overawe 
the  multitude,  where  even  the  sessions  of  the 
imperial  institute,  and  the  ceremonies  of  notre 
dame,  were  conducted  under  the  eyes  of  a 
formidable  military  guard,  and  where  the  mild 
light  of  philosophy,  and  the  awful  splendours 
of  religion,  were  all  eclipsed  by  "the  pride, 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war." 
However  proper  such  a  precaution  might 
have  been  under  a  government,  where  the  mo- 
narch wielded  a  sword,  instead  of  a  sceptre,  it 
appeared  to  me  utterly  inconsistent  with  the 
mild  dominion  of  the  crosier.  Military  hats 
and  plumes  intermixed  with  glittering  bay- 
onets, stood  above  the  heads  of  the  people, 
and  after  the  archbishop  had  pronounced  the 
benediction,  and  the  crowd  was  dispersing,  the 
blasts  of  the  trumpet  and  the  roll  of  the  drum, 
the  word  of  command  and  the  clattering  of 
arms,  formed  a  sequel  in  my  opinion,  calcu- 
lated to  unbind  the  holy  spell,  under  the 
influence  of  which  the  mind  was  left  by  the 
preceding  solemnities. 

I  cannot  reconcile  the  accounts  which  some* 
travellers  give  of  the  extreme  depravity  of  the 


233 

Italian  nation,  with  the  piety  which  appears  to 
exist  among  all  classes  of  its  community. 
They  attend  publick  worship  with  the  utmost 
punctuality,  and  frequently  the  crowd  is  so 
great,  that  their  vast  churches  overflow  into 
the  streets.  It  does  not  furnish  a  satisfactory 
explanation  of  this  inconsistency  to  say,  that 
their  religion  consists  of  a  multitude  of  ex- 
ternal rites,  which  occupy  the  mind  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  higher  and  more  important  objects. 
Wholly  occupied  (as  it  has  been  frequently  said 
they  are)  with  a  pompous  ritual,  and  with  a 
superstitious  attachment  to  relicks,  their  mo- 
ral sensibilities  are  too  little  exercised,  to  resist 
the  weakest  solicitation  to  criminal  indulgence. 
But  in  all  such  reasonings,  we  should  reflect 
that  superstition  is  the  religion  of  weak  minds,*  \ 
and  that  in  rooting  out  superstition  from  the 
heart,  there  is  danger  of  eradicating  along 
with  it,  the  seminal  principle  of  devotion  it- 
self. In  rudely  tearing  off*  the  fanciful  dra- 
pery, which  religion  borrows  from  the  ward- 
robe of  a  moral    imagination,    we   incur  the 

*  ,;  Superstition  is  the  religion  of  feeble  minds, 
fi  and  they  must  be  tolerated  in  an  intermixture  of  it> 
"  in  some  shape  or  other,  else  you  deprive  weak  mind* 
"  of  a  resource,  found  necessary  to  the  strongest." 

Burke. 
31 


2S4 


hazard  of  leaving  human  nature  exposed  to 
dreariness  of  Atheism.  "  Wisdom,"  says  Mr. 
Burke,  "  is  not  the  most  severe  corrector  of 
"  folly,  they  are  the  rival  follies,  which  wage 
"  so  unrelenting  a  war."  A  liberal  and  en- 
lightened protestant  will  tolerate  the  institu- 
tions of  piety  in  other  countries,  not  from  in- 
difference, but  from  a  conviction  that  they  are 
all  derived  from  the  same  essentia]  principles 
in  the  human  frame ;  that  they  all  point  to  one 
great  and  interesting  truth,  and  that  superstition, 
even  in  its  worst  shape,  is  more  ennobling  and 
consolatory  to  the  heart,  than  the  refinements 
of  reason  when  they  lead  to  infidelity.  The 
greatest  of  modern  philosophers  declares, 
that  "  he  would  rather  believe  all  the  fables 
"in  the  Legend,  and  the  Talmud,  and  the 
"Alcoran,  than  that  this  universal  frame  is 
'•  without  mind."* 

We  may  discover  the  gay  climate  of  the 
south,  in  the  religion  of  the  Italian.  Like  the 
beautiful  country  he  inhabits,  it  is  an  emana- 
tion of  the  milder  attributes  of  the  Deity. 
The  same  omnipotent  hand,  which  unchains 
the  blasts  of  the  north,  pours  down  the  genial 

*  Lord  Bacon,  in  his  Essays. 


235 


rays  of  heaven  upon  Italy,  and  dresses  her 
as  for  a  banquet.  And  here  the  altars  of 
Jehovah,  are  dressed  in  the  fairest  and  most 
precious  offerings  of  nature.  Gems  and  flow- 
ers glow  around  the  awful  crucifix,  and  the 
element  of  light,  that  beautiful  and  compre- 
hensive symbol  of  the  Deity,  flames  upon  his 
altars. 

The  houses  of  Bologna  like  those  of  Padua, 
are  furnished  with  porticoes.  This  is  a  great 
convenience,  as  you  may  at  all  times  walk  un- 
der the  shelter  of  these  porticoes  from  one  ex- 
tremity of  the  city  to  the  other,  without  being 
incommoded  by  the  rain  or  sun.  The  archi- 
tecture, however,  of  this  city,  is  superiour  to 
that  of  Padua,  and  some  of  the  streets  gratify 
the  eye  with  the  perspective  of  a  beautiful  colon- 
nade. Some  of  its  palaces  too,  are  worthy  of  dis- 
tinguished praise,  particularly  the  Palazzo  Ha- 
nuzzi,  the  facade  of  which,  is  admired  as  a  chef 
d'ozuvre  of  architecture.  These  edifices,  such 
as  the  Palazzi,  Bentivogli,  Zampieri,  Zambe- 
cariy  Malvezi  and  Marescalchi,  are  deco- 
rated in  a  style  of  princely  magnificence.  In 
many  of  them,  however,  the  lustre  of  their  or- 
naments are  dimmed  by  time  and  neglect.  The 
collections  of  pictures  appertaining  to  these  pa- 


236 

laces,  consist  of  the  works  of  the  great  masters 
of  the  Flemish,  Roman  and  Lombard  schools. 
In  the  Zampieri  palace  are  the  frescoes  of  Guer- 
c/iino,  and  the  three  Caracci.  The  pictures 
and  furniture  of  these  palaces,  were  in  some 
instances  decayed  and  injured,  and  it  was  with 
concern  I  beheld  the  faded  state  of  some  of 
these  precious  monuments  of  the  pencil,  where 
dampness  and  neglect  were  gradually  obliterat- 
ing the  delicate  and  characteristical  touches  of 
genius,  which,  alas  !  could  not  be  recalled  from 
the  tomb,  to  repair  its  inimitable  work. 

From  this  general  observation  I  mi-st  ex- 
cept, however,  the  gallery  and  apartments  of 
the  Marescalchi  palace,  the  paintings  of  which, 
are  in  an  excellent  state  of  preservation,  and 
the  rooms  decorated  with  all  the  splendour  of 
fashionable  elegance.  The  furniture  and  orna- 
ments of  these  apartments,  were  in  conformity 
with  the  standard  of  Parisian  taste.  Vases  of 
porcelain  from  the  manufactory  of  Seva,  the 
forms  of  antiquity  displayed  in  the  classical  or- 
naments of  a  time-piece,  or  in  the  decorations 
of  a  bed,  or  in  the  fashion  of  a  chair,  or  a  so- 
pha,  reminded  me  of  the  gay  chambers  at  St. 
Cloud  and  the  Thuilleries.  No  house  at  Pa- 
ris was  more  frequented  than  Marescalchi' s.  His 


237 

mask- balls  in  particular,  exhibited  a  combina- 
tion of  the  bold  merriment  of  the  Italian,  with 
all  the  decent  graces  of  the  French  character. 
He  was  the  confidant  of  Napoleon,  and  the 
"  popolo  de  suo  cuore,"  as  the  latter  was  often 
pleased  to  style  the  Italians,  had  in  the  person 
of  this  accomplished  nobleman  an  able  repre- 
sentative at  St.  Cloud.  Nor  did  Marescalchi> 
it  would  appear,  even  relinquish  his  admiration 
for  the  character  of  Napoleon.  In  a  small  ca- 
binet containing  the  portraits  of  the  Marescal- 
chi  family,  I  saw  the  likenesses  of  the  late  em- 
perour  of  France,  Maria  Louisa  and  the  king  of 
Rome  ;  that  of  Napoleon  in  wood,  was  remark- 
able. It  was  a  masterpiece  of  carving,  and  not- 
withstanding the  multitude  of  likenesses  which 
I  have  seen  of  this  extraordinary  person, 
I  never  saw  any  that  so  fully  expressed  the 
style  and  character  of  his  physiognomy.  From 
this  cabinet  we  passed  through  a  suite  of  apart- 
ments filled  with  paintings  of  the  highest  value. 
I  remarked  a  Madonna  by  Carlo  Dolce,  and 
the  celebrated  salvator  mundi  of  Corregio,  for 
which  the  proprietor  of  this  collection  has  been 
repeatedly  offered  sums  incredible,  to  those 
who  are  unacquainted  with  the  passion  of  a  di- 
lettante of  this  order,  and  with  the  enormous 
prices  that  are  frequently  given  for  rare  pictures 


238 


in  Italy.  They,  however,  to  whom  the  match- 
less performances  of  Corregio  are  not  unknown, 
will  not  be  surprised  at  the  refusal  of  a  consi- 
derable sum,  for  a  piece  stamped  with  all  the 
characteristick  excellencies  of  this  master. 

To  enumerate  every  picture  worthy  of  men- 
tion, in  the  Marescalchi  gallery,  would  be  in- 
consistent with  the  nature  and  limits  of  these 
remarks.  Several  of  them  I  had  previously 
observed  in  the  collection  of  the  Louvre,  where 
Marescalchi  purchased  them,  when  the  contents 
of  that  superb  gallery,  were  ordered  to  be  re- 
stored to  their  legal  proprietors. 

The  person,  who  attended  us  through  this 
gallery,  drew  our  attention  to  the  performance 
of  a  Flemish  master,  no  less  remarkable  for 
the  singularity  of  its  subject,  than  the  beauty 
of  execution.  He  unfolded  a  pannel  on  the 
wall,  about  a  foot  and  a  half  square,  and  dis- 
played two  portraits,  representing  each  sex, 
adorned  with  all  its  characteristick  charms  at 
that  period  of  life,  which  is  denominated  the 
season  of  the  graces.  Behind  these  another 
pair  of  heads  were  discovered,  in  which  some 
resemblance  to  the  two  former  might  be  dis- 
covered, but  disfigured  by  the  ravages  of  de- 


239 

cay.  I  was  sensible  of  an  emotion  of  horrour, 
tinged,  however,  with  pleasure,  in  compar- 
ing the  celestial  bloom,  and  ever  varying  ex- 
pression of  the  living  countenance,  with  the 
frightful  monotony  of  death.  The  fabled 
metamorphoses  of  the  human  form  into  the 
brute,  even  when  heightened  by  the  power 
of  poetick  fancy,  are  not  more  shocking  and 
terrifick,  than  that  awful  and  real  transforma- 
tion, which  these  pictures  represent.  The  eye 
dim  and  sunk  in  its  socket,  which  just  before 
is  represented  illuminated  with  intelligence, 
and  sparkling  with  pleasure,  the  pale  and  livid 
hues  of  corruption,  that  have  supplanted  the 
lilies  and  roses  of  the  cheek,  while  they  give 
pain  to  the  imagination,  fill  the  mind  with  mo- 
ralising reflections.  Nor  does  the  artist  him- 
self appear  to  have  given  this  performance  to 
the  world,  merely  as  a  sullen  sport  of  fancy, 
but  to  have  designed  it  for  a  vehicle  of  moral 
instruction.  The  images  of  inebriation,  and 
the  symbols  of  gambling,  cast  a  paler  lustre 
on  the  palid  hues  of  death.  Nor  are  the  va- 
nities of  the  softer  sex  forgotten.  A  braid  of 
golden  hair,  entwined  with  diamonds  and  pearls, 
and  surmounted  by  a  plume,  adorns  the  crown 
of  this  ghastly  head,  opposite  to  which,  as  if 
in  derision,  is  placed  a  mirrour,  in  which  its 
frightful  shadow  appears. 


240 

These  paintings  are  an  exemplification  of 
the  intimate  union,  which  may  subsist  in  the 
productions  of  imagination  between  ideas, 
which  in  nature  appear  to  have  for  each  other, 
a  strong  and  natural  repulsion.  Imitation  or 
description  in  this  instance,  as  it  were  remov- 
ing the  terrifick,  or  disagreable  object  to  a  dis- 
tance from  the  mind,  and  inviting  it  to  feast 
upon  it  with  delicious  grief  or  horrour.  The 
tone  of  feeling  produced  in  such  cases,  resem- 
bles that  sentiment  of  terrour  mixed  with 
delight,  which  Virgil  describes  as  awakened 
in  the  mind,  by   the   lifeless  form  of   Cacus. 

Nequeunt  expleri  corda  tuendo 
Terribiles  oculos,  vultum,  villosaque  spetis 
Pectora  semiferi,  atque  exstinctos  faucibus  ignes. 

Poetry  and  eloquence  abound  in  analogous 
examples ;  I  shall  only  mention  one»  The 
graveyard  scene  in  Hamlet,  in  spite  of  the 
low  humour  and  burlesque,  intermixed  with  it, 
leaves  upon  the  mind  a  solemn  and  affecting 
impression  that  redeems  all  its  faults.  Whatever 
is  ludicrous  in  the  preceding  dialogue  of  Ham- 
let with  the  grave-digger  is  obliterated  by  the 
pathetick  incident  to  which  it  leads,  and  by 
the  sublime  moral  lesson  it  imprints  upon  the 


241 


heart.  "  Go,"  says  Hamlet,  regarding  Yo- 
rick's  skull,  "  get  you  to  my  lady's  table,  and 
"  tell  her,  let  her  paint  an  inch  thick,  to  this 
"  complexion  she  must  come  at  last." 

The  comparison  of  one  art  with  another, 
leads  to  the  investigation  of  some  general  prin- 
ciples common  to  them  all.  By  this  means, 
they  reflect  light  upon  each  other.  The  theory 
and  „  practice  of  poetry,  derive  improvement 
from  the  study  of  painting,  and  the  cultiva- 
tion and  exercise  of  the  imagination,  are  es- 
sential to  the  attainment  of  excellence,  in  the 
higher  departments  of  painting. 

Beyond  the  walls  of  the  city,  is  situated  the 
monastery  of  Certosa,  which  contains  the  tombs 
of  some  of  the  most  illustrious  families,  that 
have  graced  the  annals  of  Bologna.  Its  prin- 
cipal entrance  corresponds  with  the  nature  of 
the  place.  Upon  each  of  the  piers  of  the  gate, 
stands  a  colossal  statue,  in  a  noble  and  affect- 
ing attitude  of  grief.  The  interiour  has  the 
appearance  of  a  flower  garden,  much  more 
than  of  a  repository  of  the  dead.  The  skulls 
of  the  Carthusians,  each  bearing  on  its  fore- 
head a  label,  indicating  the  person,  to  whom 
it  belonged,  were  disposed  on  shelves  around 
32 


242 


the  walls  of  an  apartment,  filled  with  myrtles 
and  orange  trees.  In  another  chamber  were 
contained,  those  of  the  Bentivogli,  and  other 
distinguished  Bolognese  families.  The  apart- 
ments containing  these  illustrious  dead,  are  not 
sepulchres  but  conservatories  of  flowers.  The 
pious  descendants  of  these  noble  houses,  might 
here  contemplate  the  relicks  of  their  ancestors, 
as  ^Eneas  beheld  the  shades  of  departed  heroes, 
surrounded  with  the  bloom  of  Elysium,  and 
shaded  by   fragrant  groves   of  laurel. 

Pulcherrima  proles, 
Magnanimi  heroes  nati  melioribus  annis,. 
Inter  odoratum  lauri  nemus. 

It  was  a  happy  thought  thus  to  unite  in  the 
same  place,  the  gayest  part  of  the  creation, 
and  the  mouldering  relicks  of  the  tomb.  The 
forms  of  death,  reposing  beneath  canopies  of 
flowers,  like  the  gay  and  beautiful  images 
sculptured  on  the  ancient  sarcophagi,  inspire 
the  animating  hope,  founded  on  that  beauti- 
ful analogy  of  nature,  which  is  constantly  re- 
viving with  new  life  and  vigour,  out  of  the 
very  ashes  of  decay. 

Bologna  was  distinguished  at  an  early  period 
as  a  seat  of  learning.     Here   the  light  of  juris- 


243 

prudence,  after  the  night  of  gothick  barbarism, 
began  first  to  dawn,  and  gradually  to  diffuse 
itself  over  Europe.  Her  present  learned  insti- 
tutions, although  they  have  been  outstripped 
by  those  of  some  other  countries,  are  not 
unworthy  of  her  early  eminence  in  letters. 
The  Institute  occupies  an  extensive  palace, 
which  is  divided  into  apartments,  distributed 
according  to  their  different  objects.  The  library, 
the  observatory,  the  cabinet  of  natural  his- 
tory and  anatomy,  its  chemical  laboratories 
are  all  well  furnished.  The  academy  of  sciences 
forms  a  part  of  the  Institute.  It  was  commenc- 
ed under  the  auspices  of  a  youth,  only  sixteen 
years  of  age,  and  afterwards  extended  and  en- 
riched by  the  patronage  of  count  Marsigli. 
The  apartment  appropriated  to  the  academi- 
cal exercises  of  the  students  of  painting,  and 
to  the  exhibition  of  their  performances,  con- 
tains copies  of  some  of  the  most  famous  mas- 
terpieces of  art,  such  as  the  Laocoon,  the  Apol- 
lo Belvidere,  the  Hercules,  and  Flora  of  the 
Farnese  palace,  the  Antinous  and  the  Me- 
leager.  In  the  gallery  of  sculpture  was  the 
fine  group  of  the  death  of  Virginia  by  Delia 
Maria,  present  professor  of  sculpture.  This 
performance  has  been  highly  extolled  by  Ca- 
nova. 


244 


The  gallery  of  paintings  owes  its  origin  to  a 
member  of  the  noble  family  of  Zambeccari. 
The  academy  of  painting,  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  young  artists,  confers  prizes  on  such 
of  them  as  excel.  In  the  gallery  the  likeness  of 
the  present  pontiff,  now  occupies  the  pedes- 
tal upon  which  recently  stood  Canova's  cele- 
brated colossal  bust  of  Napoleon.  I  must  not 
omit  to  mention  here  the  return  from  Paris  of 
the  works  of  the  great  Lombard  masters.  A  ge- 
neral joy  was  expressed  by  the  Bolognese,  at 
the  recovery  of  these  invaluable  specimens  of 
art.  I  saw  a  second  time  with  undiminished 
admiration,  the  martyrdom  of  St.  Agnes,  by 
DomenichinOy  the  communion  of  St.  Jerome, 
by  Agostino  Caracci,  and  the  massacre  of  the 
innocents  by  Guido  Rheni.  The  last  piece 
no  person  can  look  at  without  being  struck  by 
the  horrible  energy,  with  which  the  artist  has 
painted  the  tragick  event  that  forms  its  sub- 
ject. 

Notwithstanding  the  high  state  of  cultiva- 
tion, and  the  fertility  of  the  soil  around  Bo- 
logna, the  symptoms  of  general  poverty 
were  not  less  apparent  here,  than  in  those  parts 
of  Italy  through  which  I  had  passed.  All  of 
whom  I  happened  to   make  inquiries  concern- 


245 


ing  the  present  condition  of  Bologna,  con- 
curred in  representing  it  to  be  much  more  un- 
happy, than  during  the  time  of  French.  In 
expressing  their  ideas  on  this  subject,  all  con-, 
curred  in  employing  the  strong  phrase,  mol- 
tissima  miseria.  In  one  or  two  cases,  where 
I  took  the .  liberty  of  drawing  a  comparison, 
between  the  violent  and  despotick  measures 
of  Buonaparte,  and  the  mild  and  paternal 
government  of  the  Pope,  their  reply  to  my 
defence  of  the  latter,  was  si  e  vero,  e  buono 
per  Vanima.* 

*  Very  true,  it  is  a  good  government  for  the  soul. 


246 


Having   now  conducted  the  reader  to  the 
foot  of  the   Appenines,  I  leave    him  to  form 
his  own  opinion,  concerning  the  future  prospects 
of  the  beautiful  section  of  Italy,  through  which 
I  have  so  rapidly  led  him.     If    he  draws  his 
omens  and  anticipations  of  the  future  from   the 
past,  they  are  likely  to  be  gloomy  indeed,  but 
if  he  takes,    as  the  ground  of  his  reasoning, 
the    influence    of  science,    the  general    diffu- 
sion  of  knowledge,  and  the   gradual  extirpa- 
tion of  prejudices,  he  may  indulge  in  the  sere- 
ner    visions  of   philosophy,    and    contemplate 
Italy   advancing  by   degrees,  to  that  state  of 
social   happiness,    which  must   eventually  be 
the  result    of   those   feelings  and     principles, 
which  are  now  disseminated  over  Europe,  and 
the  effect  of  which,  although  it  may  be  retard- 
ed, cannot  be  defeated  by  the  folly  of  its  ru- 
lers.    I  think  I  may  venture  to  assert,    that 
the  mass  of  the  people  in  Italy  is  daily  grow- 
ing more  enlightened.     Is  it   possible  that  in 


247 

a  country,  where  science  has  taken  such  deep 
root,  and  where  there  has  long  existed  such 
opportunities  of  liberal  improvement,  there 
should  not  be  forming  a  spirit,  which  is  finally 
destined  to  burst  asunder  those  Lilliputian 
fetters,  which  hold  in  a  state  of  inglorious 
prostration  her  gigantick  powers  ?  But  this 
is  a  subject,  the  discussion  of  which,  I  shall 
reserve  for  a  future  occasion.  I  shall  now 
proceed  through  Florence  to  the  Roman  capi- 
tol,  noticing  in  my  way,  such  characteristick 
beauties  of  nature  and  of  art,  as  I  think  best 
calculated  to  convey  to  the  mind  of  the  reader, 
a  picture  of  the  country  through  which  I  am 
rambling,  and  dwelling  on  such  incidents,  as 
appear  to  me  illustrative  of  the  genius  and 
character  of  its  people. 

The  Appenines  have  been  often  traversed, 
and  their  scenery  repeatedly  described.  But 
few  travellers  in  passing  them  have  been  suf- 
ficiently at  their  ease  to  feel  those  sublime 
beauties,  which  belong  to  nature  in  these  ele- 
vated and  sequestered  regions.  The  result  of 
my  inquiries  concerning  them  was,  generally, 
that  the  roads  over  them  were  dangerous,  the 
atmosphere  cold,  and  the  inns  detestable.  How 
attentive  we  ought  to  be  to  the  weaknesses  and 


deficiencies  of  our  own  minds,  who  under- 
take to  describe  a  country  ;  and  of  all  the 
sources  of  errour  to  which  we  are  exposed, 
there  is  none,  the  influence  of  which  ought 
to  be  so  strenuously  resisted,  as  of  those  by 
which  the  decisions  of  taste  are  likely  to  be 
affected.  A  bare  description  of  facts,  how- 
ever interesting  it  may  be  to  the  geologist, 
the  natural  historian  and  the  botanist,  afford 
but  an  imperfect  idea  of  a  country.  It  can- 
not express  that  moral  charm,  nor  exhibit 
those  general  features  of  external  beauty, 
which,  as  they  are  among  the  most  pleasing, 
so  they  are  the  most  essential  traits,  by  which 
nations  and  countries  are  characterized.  There 
are  few  persons,  whose  taste  is  wholly  exempt 
from  the  influence  of  local  and  accidental  as- 
sociations, but  there  are  many,  who  see  no 
beauty  in  a  country,  that  does  not  afford 
smooth  roads  and  good  taverns.  In  America 
we  laugh  at  the  petulant  remarks,  respecting 
our  own  country  of  foreigners,  whom  an  un- 
lucky bottle  of  wine,  or  a  cross  landlord,  has 
sent  away  displeased  with  every  thing  they 
saw.  I  have  known  a  traveller  at  Rome,  posi- 
tively refuse  to  visit  Tivoli,  in  consequence 
of  the  account  which  he  received  of  the  bad 
accommodations  at  the  inn,  and  numerous  in- 


249 


stances  might  be  adduced,  where  the  prospect 
of  an  indifferent  dinner  has  been  sufficient  to 
cloud  the  bright  skies  of  Italy,  and  to  throw 
a  shade  over  its  classick  scenes. 

The  populous  and  cultivated  plains  of  Bo- 
logna, appear  to  advantage,  from  the  last  ridge 
of  the  Appenines.  Here  the  traveller  takes 
leave  for  a  time,  of  the  works  of  man,  and 
enters  a  region,  where  nature  reigns  supreme 
and  absolute. 

Where  if  art 
E'er  dared  to  tread,  'twas  with  unsandal'd  foot, 
Printless,  as  if  the  place  were  holy  ground. 

The    vehicle    I  made  choice    off  for  this 

journey,  is  called  a  vettura,  a   cheap,  although 

not  the  most  expeditious  mode  of  travelling, 

and   admirably    accommodating  to  a   person, 

desirous  of  leisurely  inspecting  the  face  of  the 

country.     In  this  unmanageable  and  ponderous 

vehicle,  we  were  sometimes  dragged  by  mules 

and  oxen,  up  to  the  top  of  a  steep   hill,  and 

precipitated  down  the  opposite  side,  with  giddy 

velocity.      My   companions   were    Bolognese, 

and  did  not  appear  to  be  much  in  love  with 

the  charms  of  la  belle  nature.     I  left  them  to 

33 


250 


converse  in  their  uncouth  and  lugubrious  dialect,, 
to  the  sounds  of  which  I  was  unable  to  annex 
any  signification,  and  pursued  my  journey  on 
foot  before  the  carriage.  They  were  at  a  loss 
to  account  for  my  preference  of  the  road,  and 
marvelled  not  a  little,  to  see  me  standing  in  a 
shower,*  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  gazing, 
like  one  lost,  at  frightful  chasms  and  preci- 
pices, and  listening  to  the  roar  of  torrents, 
rushing  down  the  sides  of  the  mountain.  They 
frequently  reminded  me  of  the  danger  of  an 
incautious  exposure  to  the  cold  atmosphere 
of  the  mountains,  and  pressed  me  to  resume 
my  seat  in  the  carriage.  This  solicitude,  for 
the  health  of  a  person  whom  they  had  never 
seen  before,  and  probably  would  never  meet 
again,  convinced  me  that  my  companions,  al- 
though they  evinced  no  enthusiastick  admira- 
tion for  mountainous  scenery,  and  spoke  a  lan- 
guage harsh  and  unmusical,  were  not  desti- 
tute of  more  estimable  qualities,  and  I  blush- 
ed at  the  trivial  circumstance  which  had  led 
me  to  judge  unfavourably  of  their  character. 

*  The  atmosphere  of  the  Appenines  is  subject  ta 
frequent  and  sudden  variations.  Showers  quickly  col- 
lect and  pass  over,  and  violent  storms  of  thunder,  of- 
ten add  to  the  grand  effect  of  these  wild  solitudes. 


251 


As  we  descended  the  Appenines,  there  was  a 
sensible  change  in  the  face  of  the  country, 
which  no  longer  presented  the  wild  and  un- 
couth features  of  the  mountainous  solitudes  we 
had  passed,  but  was  highly  cultivated  and  po- 
pulous. The  fair  landscapes  which  Tuscany 
now  presented,  corresponded  with  the  idea  I 
had  formed  of  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  Italy. 
Nor  did  the  manners  and  aspect  of  its  inhabi- 
tants inspire  sensations  less  gay,  than  its  smi- 
ling scenery.  They  approached  and  saluted 
us,  in  the  pure  and  harmonious  language  of 
their  country.  I  remarked  that  my  compa- 
nions, who  had  hitherto  spoken  Bolognese,  now 
began  to  lay  aside  their  own  harsh  dialect,  and 
to  converse  together  in  pure  Tuscan,  saying 
Lasciamo  la  nostra  lingua  Petroniada.  In 
hearing  the  peasantry  of  this  part  of  Italy 
speak,  my  imagination  was  often  awakened  by 
that  harmony  and  felicity  of  expression,  which 
have  charmed  me  in  the  Tuscan  writers,  and 
which  presenting  to  my  memory  the  richest 
images  of  fancy,  gave  to  the  scenes  in  which 
L  heard  them  pronounced,  the  enchantments 
of  poetry. 

The  peasant  girls  are  animated,  and  some- 
times   beautiful,     and  the  smartness  of  their 


252 


looks,  is  not  a  little  improved  by  a  hat  and 
plume,  and  their  graceful  manner  of  wearing 
it.  The  better  class  of  them,  load  themselves 
with  a  profusion  of  jewelry.*  The  diamonds 
they  wear  are,  to  be  sure,  not  of  the  first  wa- 
ter, nor  the  pearls  of  the  most  brilliant  white- 
ness, or  of  the  finest  shape,  but  what  they 
want  in  quality,  they  make  up  in  quantity. 
Their  manners  are  courteous,  and  the  turn  of 
their  expressions,  as  has  frequently  been  re- 
marked, is  sprightly  and  graceful.  As  I  was 
admiring  a  rose  in  the  dress  of  one  of  them, 
she  said  to  me,  vrCa  regalato  un  giovinotto  di 
sessanfanni ;  it  is  a  present  from  a  youth  of 
sixty  years  of  age.  The  vivacity,  which  char- 
acterizes the  peasantry  of  Tuscany,  has  an  in- 
fluence on  the   mind,  not  less  delightful,  than 

*  When  they  go  abroad  or  visit  on  festival  days, 
they  make  a  ludicrous  exhibition  of  their  wealth,  in  the 
ornaments  of  their  persons.  The  family  of  a  rich  Tus- 
can farmer  was  pointed  out  to  me,  in  a  barge  on  the 
Brenta.  The  good  man  himself  wore  two  golden 
watches,  with  immense  chains  that  hung  half  way  to 
his  knees.  The  large  arms  and  hands  of  his  dame, 
sparkled  with  rings  and  bracelets,  and  as  many  old  fash- 
ioned pearls  and  diamonds,  were  displayed  on  the  per- 
sons of  his  daughters,  as  would  have  furnished  a  com- 
mon jeweller's  shop. 


25; 


the  unrivalled  beauty  of  its  climate,  and 
the  gay  embroidery  of  its  fields  and  mea- 
dows. 

As    I  approached  Florence,  an  atmosphere 
perfumed   with  flowers,    and   the     scenery   of 
the  ArrtOy  which  was  in  all  its  beauty,  realised 
the    most   flattering    pictures    my    imagination 
had    previously     formed  of     this    enchanting 
vale.       On  entering  the   city  by   the  Porto   di 
St.  Gallo,  I   admired  the   long  and    spacious 
streets  before  me,  which   had  nothing  of    the 
heaviness  of  those  of   Bologna,  and  the    edi- 
fices  I  passed  indicated   a    purer   taste  in   ar- 
chitecture, than  I  had   yet   seen  exemplified  in 
the  cities  of  Italy.     The   beauties  of  the  Tus- 
can architecture  are  peculiarly  striking  to  one, 
who  arrives  almost  directly  from  Venice,  where 
the   classick   works   of  Palladio,  are  intermix- 
ed with  the  remains  of     Saraceniek  magnifi- 
cence.    Yet,  I    confess,  for  me   the  latter  pos- 
sess,   in   a  much  greater   degree,   the  charms 
of   novelty.      The  edifices  in    Venice   which 
border  the  grand  canal,  although  they   evince 
a   taste  irregular  and  capricious,  on  the  whole 
produce,  a  more  pleasing  effect,  than  the   state- 
ly beauties  of  the  Florentine  palaces.     In  view- 
ing,   however,    the  palace    fiicardi,    and    the 


254 


palace  Pitti,  and  some  others,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  they  are  specimens  of  purer  taste 
than  is  displayed  in  the  mansions  of  the  Ve- 
netian nobility. 

The  Pallazzo  Vecchio  is  the  ancient  resi- 
dence of  the  illustrious  family  of  the  Medici. 
Its  exteriour  is  gothick,  and  its  turret  and 
battlements  are  singular  appendages  in  the  actual 
state  of  Florence,  but  their  utility  is  apparent 
enough,  when  we  recollect  the  character  of 
the  times,  of  which  it  is  a  striking  monument, 
when  the  frequent  popular  commotions  to  which 
its  government  was  subject,  rendered  it  ne- 
cessary for  those,  who  were  conspicuous  ob- 
jects of  the  people's  resentment  or  jealousy, 
to  fortify  themselves  in  their  palaces,  against 
the  fury  of  the  multitude. 

Around  this  old  palace  are  some  noble  and 
striking  works  of  art.  On  one  side  of  its  en- 
trance stands  a  statue  of  David;  a  juvenile 
performance  of  Michael  Angelo.  On  the  oth- 
er side  is  a  Hercules  subduing  Cacus  ;  by  Ban- 
dinelli.  In  the  Loggia,  opposite,  is  a  beauti- 
ful Perseus,  holding  in  one  hand  a  sword  with 
which  he  has  just  cut  off  the  head  of  Medusa, 
distilling  blood ;  by  Benvemito  Cellini.     The 


255 


tragical  death  of  Holophernes,  by  Donatello  ; 
and  a  group  in  marble,  by  Giovanni  di  Bologna, 
representing  the  rape  of  the  Sabines,  where 
an  old  man  attempting  to  rescue  his  daughter, 
is  overturned  by  the  impetuosity  of  the  Roman 
soldier,  who  bears  off  the  virgin  in  his  arms. 
The  entrance  into  this  Loggia,  is  guarded  by 
two  large  lions,  transported  hither  from  the  gar- 
dens of  the  palace  of  the  Monte  ei  Trinita  at 
Rome.  The  fountain  which  forms  a  conspicu- 
ous ornament  of  this  piazza,  and  is  on  one 
side  of  the  palace,  was  erected  by  order  of 
the  grand  Duke  Cosmo  the  first.  Neptune 
standing  in  his  car  drawn  by  sea-horses,  attend- 
ed by  tritons  and  surrounded  with  satyrs  and 
marine  divinities,  is  an  animated  group,  and 
the  water  that  is  perpetually  playing  and  flow- 
ing around  it  envelopes  it  in  continual  mist  and 
showers. 

Near  this  fountain,  upon  a  large  pedestal  of 
marble,  is  an  equestrian  statue  in  bronze,  of  Cos- 
mo the  first,  erected  to  his  memory,  as  a  latin  in- 
scription on  the  pedestal  tells  us,  by  bis  son  Fer- 
dinand- On  the  other  three  sides  of  the  pedestal 
are  represented  in  bas  relief,  three  conspicuous 
events  in  the  life  of  Cosmo—  when  he  was  first  cre- 
ated Duke  of  Florence — his  coronation  at  Rome 
as  grand  Duke  by  Pius  the  fifth,  and  the  vie- 


256 


torious  entry  into  the  city  of  Sienna.  The  in- 
teriour  of  the  Palazzo  Fecchio,  is  adorned 
with  paintings  by  Fasari,  and  other  artists. 
They  interest  the  visitor,  by  turning  his  atten- 
tion to  some  of  the  most  striking  events  in  the 
history  of  Florence,  and  to  the  illustrious  ac- 
tions of  the  house  of  de  Medici.  In  one  of 
them,  Pius  the  fifth  is  represented  conferring  on 
Cosmo  the  first,  the  crown  of  Tuscany,  and  de- 
corating him  with  the  regal  mantle. 

The  celebrated  gallery  which  was  commenc- 
ed by  Cosmo  de  Medici,  and  which  is  so  de- 
servedly extolled  on  account  of  the  works  of 
art  it  contains,  is  between  the  Palazzo  Fec- 
chio and  the  banks  of  the  Arno.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  illustrious  found- 
er of  the  fortunes  of  the  Medici  family,  patronis- 
ed the  arts'and  collected  within  the  apartments  of 
his  own  sumptuous  palace,  the  masterpieces  of 
statuary  and  painting,  which  his  immense  wealth, 
and  his  extensive  correspondence  with  remote 
countries  enabled  him  to  accumulate.  In  this  glo- 
rious undertaking,  of  reviving  in  Florence  the 
Augustan  age,  he  was  succeeded  by  Lorenzo, 
surnamed  the  Magnificent,  the  patron  of  Mi- 
chael Angelo,  the  founder  of  the  Floren- 
tine school  of  painting.     Under  the   protection 


257 

of  Pierro  his  son  and  the  scholar  of  Politiattj 
the  Medicean  gallery  would  not  have  failed  to 
have  become  enlarged,  but  this  prince  not 
combining  with  his  literary  accomplishments, 
the  wisdom  and  policy  of  his  father,  the 
reins  of  government  slipped  from  his  hands ; 
he  was  driven  into  banishment,  and  the  superb 
collection  accumulated  by  the  zeal  and  indus. 
try  of  his  predecessors,  was  sold  at  auction 
and  dispersed.  A  portion  of  it,  however,  was 
afterwards  recovered,  when  the  influence  of 
the  Medici  family  was  re-established. 

It  was  Cosmo  the  first,  that  engaged  Vasari 
to  erect  the  buildings,  which  at  present  are  de- 
nominated the  gallery  of  Florence.  The  tri- 
bune in  which  is  now  placed  the  Venus  de 
Medicis,  was  erected  by  Francis  the  first, 
the  successor  of  Cosmo.  At  the  accession 
of  Ferdinand  the  first  to  the  throne  of  Tusca- 
ny, this  gallery  was  augmented  by  the  ad- 
dition of  his  valuable  collection  at  Rome. 
Ferdinand  the  second,  founder  of  the  academy 
del  Cimento,  was  a  passionate  admirer  of  the 
arts,  and  enriched  it  with  the  fine  bust  of  Cice- 
ro, the  statue  of  Hermaphrodite,  and  that 
unrivalled  painting,  the  Venus  of  Titian. 
Cosmo  the  third,  who  was  heir  to  the  wealth 
34 


258 


of  the  Dukes  of  Urbino  of  the  house  of  delta 
Rovere,  and  to  the  immense  collection  in  the 
palace  Pitti,  belonging  to  his  uncle  Cardinal 
Leopoldo,  did  not  neglect  to  augment  with 
these  important  acquisitions,  the  splendour  of 
a  gallery,  which  reflected  so  much  lustre  on 
his  family.  To  the  munificence  of  John  Gas- 
ton de  Medici,  this  collection  is  also  indebted. 

This  is  a  short  history  of  the  origin  and 
growth  of  this  celebrated  gallery,  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Medici.  After  their  extinction 
the  house  of  Lorraine,  which  succeeded  them 
continued  that  care,  which  had  raised  a  monu- 
ment of  taste,  so  honourable  to  the  capital 
of  Tuscany,  and  the  grand  Duke  Pierro  Leo- 
poldo  holds  a  conspicuous  rank  among  its  bene- 
factors. He  purchased  for  it  the  collection  of 
the  portraits  of  the  painters,  and  added  the 
Niobe,  the  Young  Apollo,  some  fine  paintings 
by  the  first  masters,  an  extensive  cabinet  of 
medals  and  other  interesting  objects,  and  final- 
ly,  made  a  present  of  these  invaluable  works 
of  art  to  the  publick,  and  decreed  the  gal- 
lery to  be  the  property  of  the  state. 

This  rich  collection  paid  its  contribution  to 
the  general  treasury  of  art  at  Paris,    but,  al- 


259 

though  despoiled  of  some  of  its  greatest  master- 
pieces, it  still  retained  a  sufficient  number  of 
works  of  the  highest  merit,  to  enable  it  to  contest 
the  superiority,  with  any  other  depository  of  art, 
except  that  of  the  Vatican,  in  Europe.  A 
great  number  of  them,  to  prevent  their  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  French,  were  conveyed 
to  Palermo.  The  gallery,  when  I  saw  it,  had 
not  resumed  all  its  original  splendour,  but 
some  of  its  statues  had  been  replaced,  and 
others  were  daily  expected. 

A  spacious  staircase  leads  to  a  vestibule, 
containing  the  busts  of  the  Medici  family.  Even 
after  death  the  spirits  of  these  great  men  seem 
to  animate  their  images,  and  to  preside  over 
their  darling  treasure,  and  a  mind  not  dead  to 
the  raptures  of  inspiration,  will  at  the  en- 
trance  of  this  temple  of  the  arts,  pay  a  pas- 
sing tribute  of  respect  to  the  shades  of  its 
illustrious  founders. 

The  paintings  distributed  in  separate  com- 
partments, over  the  ceiling  of  the  gallery,  are 
a  commentary  on  the  history  of  Florence.  In 
them  the  virtues  and  talents  that  have  adorned 
the  repubiick  are  celebrated,  and  the  portraits 
of   the   warriors,    statesmen,  philosophers  and 


260 


artists,  m  whom  they  were  exemplified,  are 
calculated  for  a  stimulus  to  the  powers  of  the 
mind,  and  an  excitement  to  that  love  of  dis- 
tinction, which  prevailed  no  where  more,  than 
in  the  state,  whose  literary  and  political  glo- 
ry, has  here  furnished  so  many  noble  subjects 
for  the  pencil.  From  the  contemplation  of 
the  historical  incidents  recalled  to  his  memory 
by  these  representations,  the  visitor  is  with- 
drawn by  the  works  of  painting  and  sculpture 
that  surround  him.  He  admires  the  figures 
on  some  ancient  Sarcophagi,  inviting  the  ima- 
gination to  range  through  the  gay  regions  of 
poetry  and  fable. 

The  ancients  have,  in  some  measure,  dis- 
played their  moral  character,  in  ornamenting 
the  receptacles  of  their  dead  with  festive  ima- 
ges. It  would  seem  by  this,  that  they  intend- 
ed to  solace  and  enliven  the  mind  under  that 
despondency,  which  must  frequently  have  fil- 
led it  at  the  faint  and  uncertain  prospect,  which 
their  religion  opened  of  a  future  life.  But  pa- 
ganism, which  involved  this  interesting  doc- 
trine in  fable,  in  some  instances,  clothed  it 
with  pleasing  images,  and  painted  it  in  lively 
colours.  If  it  did  not  satisfy  the  understand- 
ing  and   influence   the    heart,  it  presented  gay 


261 


pictures  to  the  imagination  and  the  senses. 
Christianity,  which  established  a  higher  and 
purer  standard  of  morality,  than  was  known  to 
the  ancients,  and  the  doctrines  of  which  all 
tend  to  fortify  the  mind  against  the  illusions 
of  sense,  expelled  these  dreams  of  fancy, 
and  whilst  it  has  established  the  resurrection, 
on  the  most  solid  basis  of  evidence,  the  hints 
which  it  affords  of  a  future  state,  furnish  no 
foundation  for  the  structures  of  imagination, 
but  open  a  prospect  to  the  soul,  boundless 
as  its  hopes  and  tremendous  as  its  fears. 

On  one  of  these  ancient  Sarcophagi,  is  re- 
presented in  bas  relief  the  triumph  of  Bacchus. 
A  yoke  of  tigers  is  attached  to  the  car  of  Ari- 
adne, that  of  Bacchus  is  drawn  by  two  Cen- 
taurs. The  pomp  is  preceded  by  a  winged 
figure  of  victory,  and  followed  by  a  gay  band 
of  Fauns  and  Bacchanals.  On  an  other,  the 
rape  of  Proserpine  is  poetically  described. 
The  car,  in  which  her  ravisher  bears  her  off, 
is  drawn  by  a  team  of  infernal  horses.  Mer- 
cury leads  the  way,  and  the  god  of  love  hovers 
above  with  a  torch  to  light  their  gloomy  hy- 
menals. Then  follow  the  other  incidents  of  the 
fable,  the  wanderings  of  Ceres,  and  the  da- 
ring exploit  of  Hercules.      On  an   other,    is 


262 

engraven  the  story  of  Phaeton,  a  happy  sub- 
ject for  the  ornament  of  a  tomb,  if  we  con- 
sider it,  either  as  illustrative  of  the  aspiring 
hopes  of  man,  and  his  elevated  destiny,  or 
as  an  image  of  that  audacious  vehemence  of 
youth,  which  only  accelerates  the  extinction 
of  life.  Meleager  and  the  huntress  Atalanta 
surrounded  with  their  dogs,  present  to  the 
imagination  an  image  of  vigorous  life.  Na- 
ture is  every  where  full  of  activity  and  move- 
ment, ever  resisting  the  attacks  of  death,  and 
when  her  fairest  works  seem  to  perish  beneath 
his  power,  her  immortal  energy  revives  them 
with  new  life  and  beauty  from  the  dust. 
The  visitor  sees  upon  an  other  Sarcophagus, 
the  figures  of  Nereids,  Tritons,  Dolphins  and 
winged  boys,  who  bear  in  their  hands  sea- 
shells,  filled  with  fruits  and  flowers,  and  the 
allegory  is  unriddled,  when  he  recollects  that 
some  of  the  ancients  placed  the  seat  of  the 
Elysian  fields  in  an  island  of  the  ocean. 

Proceeding  then  to  the  examination  of  the 
busts  of  this  collection,  his  attention  is  likely, 
in  the  first  place,  to  be  directed  to  the  portraits 
of  the  Roman  Emperours,  and  he  naturally  sin- 
gles out  such  of  them,  as  he  imagines  to 
express  those  features  of  the  mind,  which 
made  them  a  blessing  or  a  curse  to  mankind. 


63 


He  endeavours,  however,  in  vain,  to  dis- 
cover in  die  physiognomy  of  Tiberius  traces 
of  that  mysterious  and  involved  policy,*  which 
eluded  the  most  piercing  scrutiny,  and  those 
dark  lines  and  colours,  with  which  Tacitus 
has  painted  his  moral  character.  The  face  of 
Tiberius,  here,  does  not  yet  appear  to  have 
been  dimued  by  his  passions.  He  must  have 
worn  an  aspect  different  from  this,  when  en- 
feebled by  old  age,  he  retired  to  the  delicious 
island  of  Caprea,  and  hoped,  amidst  its  plea- 
sures and  voluptuous  climate,  to  banish  the 
remembrance  of  his  crimes. 

The  bust  of  Nero,  the  murderer  of  A  grip- 
ping expresses  those  qualities  of  mind,  which, 
at  early  period,  made  him  the  hope  and  favour- 
ite of  the  Roman  people,  and  yet  I  do  not 
know,  if  the  whole  face  were  analysed,  whe- 
ther that  smiling  air  which  marks  it,  would 
not  be  found  an  essential  property  in  the  com- 
position of  the  countenance  of  every  villain,  who 
combines  great  powers  of  dissimulation  with 
obduracy  of  heart. 

*  "  Tiberioque  etiam  in  rebus,  quas  non  occuleret, 
"  seu  natura,  sive  asuetudine,  suspensa  semper  et  obscu- 
«  ra  verba :  nitenti  ut  sensus  suos  penitus  abderet,  in  in- 
"  certam  et  ambiguum  magis  implicabantur." 

lacitus  JinvaU  Lib.  I. 


264 

The  virtues  of  the  venerable  Galba,  the 
effeminacy  of  Otho,  and  the  gluttony  of  Vite-> 
lius,  are  charactered  in  their  respective  busts. 
The  face  of  Vespasian  announces  the  qualities 
of  his  mind,  and  its  aquiline  nose,  a  peculiar 
form  of  this  feature  which  is  said  to  be  indi- 
cative of  a  soaring  and  commanding  genius, 
is  characteristick  of  the  history  of  this  sol- 
dier of  fortune,  who  from  the  ranks  was  ele- 
vated to  the  purple.  The  majestick  aspect  of 
Nerva  is  discriptive  of  his  virtues,  and  the 
mild  glories  of  Trajan's  reign,  seem  to  be 
diffused  over  the  features  of  his  bust.  The 
head  of  Commodus,  son  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  is 
fine,  and  is  a  combination  of  ideotism  and 
beauty.  A  ferocious  and  frightful  air  marks 
the  likeness  of  Caracalla,  and  the  portrait  of 
the  imperial  fratricide  seems  to  lower  with  a 
darker  scowl,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  that 
of  his  brother  Geta,  whom  he  stabbed  in  the 
arms   of  Julia  their  mother. 

This  gallery  contains  a  bust  of  Julius  C<esar 
and  of  Cicero,  two  great  men,  who  flourished 
in  the  time  of  the  republick,  a  period  propi- 
tious to  the  growth  of  those  virtues  and  ta- 
lents, which  withered  and  drooped  under  the 
despotism  that  succeeded.      The   spare    and 


265 


animated  countenance  of  Casar,  is  expres- 
sive of  the  fire,  penetration  and  activity  of  his 
genius.  The  bust  of  Cicero  is  remarkably 
fine,  and  seems  to  glow  with  those  treasures  of 
thought  and  fancy,  with  which  he  illustrated 
and  adorned  every  topick  he  touched,  but 
which  entitle  him  to  a  fer  less  share  of  glory  in 
the  eyes  of  posterity,  than  that  courage  which 
impelled  him  in  the  midst  of  enemies,  to  fight 
the  battles  of  liberty,  with  a  zeal  and  eloquence 
that  has  never  been  surpassed. 

Having  examined  some  of  the  busts,  the 
most  conspicuous  in  point  of  execution,  or 
the  most  striking  on  account  of  the  associations 
they  awaken  in  the  mind,  the  visitor  may  then 
indulge  his  admiration  of  works  of  higher  me- 
rit, and  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  those 
ideal  forms  which  grace  the  different  cham- 
bers of  this  gallery.  They  are  the  Venus  de 
Medicis,  the  Niobe,  the  Hermaphrodite,  the 
dancing  Faun,  the  two  wrestlers  and  the  young 
Apollo. 

The  apartment  allotted  to  the  Venus  de  Me- 
dicis, is  fitted  up  with  great  elegance,  and 
adorned  with  La  bella  Fornarina,  and  some 
other  choice  pieces  of  Raphael,  the  celebrated 


266 

Venus  of  Titian,  and  other  esteemed  pieces 
of  the  Roman,  Lombard  and  Venetian  mas- 
ters. A  crimson  drapery  suspended  near  the 
Venus  de  Medicis,  renders  the  whiteness  of 
the  marble  more  tranchant,  and  defines  with 
greater  precision  the  beautiful  outline  of  this 
statue.  The  shape  of  this  apartment  is  octa- 
gonal, and  is  covered  by  a  dome  superbly  en- 
riched with  mother  of  pearl.  Leaving  the  beau- 
tiful temple  in  which  the  Paphian  goddess  is 
enshrined,  it  is  necessary  to  make  nearly  the 
whole  circuit  of  the  gallery,  in  order  to  arrive 
at  the  chamber  which  contains  Niobe  and  her 
children.  Impatient  to  view  this  immortal 
work  of  Praxiteles,  the  visitor  casts  over 
the  masterpieces  that  occupy  the  intermediate 
portion  of  the  gallery,  a  hasty  and  superficial 
glance.  He  is  forcibly  struck  by  the  noble 
form  of  Niobe,  so  beautiful  in  grief,  and  those 
emotions  of  maternal  tenderness  which  play 
over  her  countenance,  and  yet  do  not  mar  its 
celestial  symmetry,  are  more  deeply  affecting 
than  that  terrifick  expression  of  moral  and  phy- 
sical pain  diffused  over  the  features  of  the  dying 
Laocoon. 

After  the  statuary  the  paintings  next  call  the 
attention.      The  Florentine  school   was  foun- 


267 


ded  by  Michael  Angelo  and  Leonardo  da  Vin- 
ci. The  latter  was  an  elegant  critick,  and 
has  written  profoundly  upon  the  theory  of  the 
art  in  the  practice  of  which  he  attained  so  high  a 
degree  of  excellence.  In  the  works  of  Michael 
Angela  are  to  be  found  those  original  and  mas- 
terly beauties,  which  have  given  a  peculiar  tone 
of  grandeur  to  all  the  Italian  schools  of  paint- 
ings, and  which  is  not  less  visible  in  the  perform- 
ances of  Vasari  and  Andrea  del  Sarto,  than  in  the 
works  of  the  Roman  and  Lombard  masters.  One 
solitary  piece  in  the  Tribune  is  all  that  in  this 
gallery,  is  ascribed  to  Michael  Angelo,  and  I  an- 
ticipated with  more  than  pleasure  he  moment 
when  the  Vatican  should  "  unbar  its  gates,"  and 
show  me  the  wonders  of  the  Pauline  and  Sis- 
tine  chapels.  Of  the  style  of  Leonardo  da  Find, 
Andrea  del  Sarto  and  Vasari,  this  gallery  af- 
fords a  sufficient  number  of  examples,  if  the 
churches  of  Florence  were  not  so  rich  in  pro- 
ductions of  the  Tuscan  school,  as  to  render  a 
collection  of  their  works  here  almost  superflu- 
ous. The  stranger  in  a  short  time  becomes 
acquainted  with  that  purity  of  design,  that  strik- 
ing and  noble  simplicity,  which  raise  it  so  far 
above  the  Venetian  school,  ^  where  an  exube- 
rant imagination,  and  a  love  of  ostentation,  are 
not  considered  as  faults  in  an  art,  which  in  an  its 


268 


higher  efforts  demands  a  severity  of  taste,  and 
a  grandeur  of  conception  not  inferiour  to  what 
are  exercised  by  the  poet  in  the  department  of 
epick  composition.  At  the  same  time  that  he 
admires  the  enchanting  languor,  the  inimitable 
graces,  and  the  unrivalled  hues  of  complexion 
which  Titian  has  lavished  on  the  portrait  of 
the  goddess  of  beauty,  he  cannot  for  a  mo- 
ment put  these  sensual  charms  in  competition 
with  that  inward  purity  of  mind,  which  is  ex- 
pressed in  the  angelick  features  of  Raphael's 
Madonna. 

Some  fine  paintings  here,  executed  by  Reu- 
bens, Paul  Br  ill,  Gerard  Dow,  Mieris  and  Hem- 
brant,  show  the  distance  that  exists  between 
the  genius  and  taste  of  the  Tuscan  artists, 
and  those  narrow  views  of  painting,  from  which 
the  Flemish  and  Dutch  schools  derive  their 
leading  characteristicks.  Here  a  laborious  and 
pains-taking  tribe  of  artists,  have  copied  nature 
with  unrivalled  fidelity,  but  have  neglected 
to  study  her  in  those  noble  and  happy  atti- 
tudes, which  supply  an  inventive  imagination 
with  such  materials,  as  compose  the  sublime 
creations  of  a  Raphael  or  a  Corregio. 


269 

In  consequence  of  some  foregoing  remarks, 
it  perhaps  remains  for  me  to  say  something  of 
the  comparative  merits,  of  the  Florentine  gal- 
lery and  the  Louvre.  The  latter  indeed  may  be 
now  said  no  longer  to  exist,  but  the  comparison 
may,  notwithstanding,  be  acceptable  to  those, 
who,  leaving  out  of  the  question  the  equity 
of  the  transaction,  consider  the  dispersion  of 
the  Parisian  gallery,  an  event  to  be  lamented 
by  every  lover  of  the  arts.  The  distribution  of 
the  gallery  at  Florence  is  strikingly  objectiona- 
ble, and  is  as  little  pleasing  to  the  sense  of  vi- 
sion as  it  is  gratifying  to  the  understanding. 
The  magnificent  coup  d  'ceil,  which  the  gallery 
of  the  Louvre  offered  to  the  eye,  and  its  admi- 
rable classification  of  the  productions  of  the 
different  schools,  were  highly  creditable  to 
the  taste  and  judgment  of  its  founders.  The 
Gorridores  of  Florence,  I  must  confess,  dis- 
appointed me,  accustomed  as  I  had  been  to 
that  rich  display  of  art  exhibited  by  the  Lou- 
vre. There  are  here  none  of  those  points  of 
view,  from  which  the  mind,  as  from  a  com- 
manding station,  may  contemplate  the  immense 
variety  of  objects  presented  to  it  ;  none  of 
those  beautiful  gradations,  which  assist  so 
much  the  understanding  in  the   operations  of 


270 


reasoning  and  comparison.  The  effect  of  the 
perspective  is  interrupted  by  angles.  Painting 
and  statuary  occupy  the  same  apartments, 
and  the  specimens  of  the  latter  are  placed 
against  a  dead  wall  opposite  lateral  windows. 
This  last,  it  is  true,  was  sometimes  a  defect 
in  the  Louvre,  but  in  general  its  statues  were 
so  disposed,  that  the  air  circulated  as  freely 
around  them,  as  in  an  open  garden.  The 
light,  which  is  copiously  admitted  through  the 
immense  windows  of  the  Florentine  gallery, 
is  too  powerful  and  glaring  for  statuary.  It 
had  a  much  softer  effect  in  the  lofty  apart- 
ments of  the  Louvre,  and  approached  nearer 
the  mild  radiance  of  the  moon,  whose  pale- 
ness gives  so  eloquent  an  expression  to  marble, 
and  in  which  the  divine  forms  of  sculpture  ap- 
pear to  become  animated.  The  great  master- 
pieces are  enclosed  in  separate  apartments, 
that  ought  to  have  been  brought  into  close 
comparison  with  works  of  inferiour  merit, 
which  should  have  formed  around  each  of  them 
a  species  of  court,  where  the  gradations  of 
ranks  would  have  been  strikingly  marked 
by  the  presence  of  a  standard,  recognised 
as  supreme  by  the  laws  of  taste,  and  the 
suffrages  of  all  ages.     I   speak  here,  however, 


271 

only  of  the  distribution  of  the  Louvre,  for 
what  collection  of  painting  or  statuary  could 
ever  vie  with  it  in  point  of  extent,  and  in  the 
variety  and  value  of  its  treasures?  How  far 
the  dispersion  of  its  contents  is  likely  to  affect 
the  general  taste,  and  whether  the  arts  are 
likely  to  decline  in  Europe,  in  consequence 
of  the  distribution  of  each  portion  again, 
to  the  particular  country  of  whose  taste 
and  genius  it  is  characteristick,  is  another 
question,  and  one  which  we  may  fairly  sup- 
pose was  not  wholly  left  out  of  view,  in  de- 
termining the  conduct  of  those,  in  whom  all 
recognise  the  right  of  conquest,  if  not  a  mo- 
ral competence  to  preside  over  the  interests 
of  Europe. 

Much  light  is  thrown  upon  the  art  of  paint- 
ing, by  considering  it  in  connexion  with  the 
usages,  customs  and  opinions  of  the  countries 
where  it  has  been  cultivated  with  the  greatest 
success,  and  by  not  only  considering  the  influ- 
ence on  it,  of  society  and  manners,  but  also  the 
intimate  relation  which  must  ever  subsist  be- 
tween it  and  those  great  and  permanent  fea- 
tures by  which  nature  has  distinguished  diffe- 
rent sections  of  the  globe.     If  it  be  admitted 


272 


that  the  genius  of  an  individual  communicates 
to  painting  and  statuary,  something  peculiar  and 
character istick,  how  much  more  likely  is  it, 
that  the  sources  of  those  great  leading  and  dis- 
criminating features,  which  mark  the  manner 
and  style  of  painting  of  a  particular  country,  are 
to  be  found  in  its  social  customs  and  habits, 
and  in  the  physical  properties  of  its  soil  and 
climate.  Had  Claude  Lorraine*  gathered  the 
materials  of  his  landscapes  in  his  native  coun- 
try, he  never  could  have  dressed  nature  in  such 
enchanting  colours ;  and  Salvator  Rosa,  if  he 
had  studied  nature  on  the  extensive  flats  of  Hol- 
land, instead  of  contemplating  her  in  the  wild 
Solitudes  of  Calabria,  among  caves  inhabited 
by  the  wolf  and  the  outlaw,  would  have  de- 
lighted perhaps  in  portraying  rich  meadows  and 
herds  of  fat  cattle  feeding  upon  them.  When 
in  Venice,  the  faces  I  saw  in  the  pictures  of 
Titian  and  Paul  Veronese,  appeared  to  me  to 
be  likenesses  of  those  I  met  in  the  places  of 

"  *  His  landscapes  do  not,  like  those  of  the  Dutch 
"painters,  exhibit  the  cold  portraiture  of  a  prescribed 
**  portion  of  a  country.  He  soars  above  the  servile  repre- 
sentation of  ordinary  nature,  and  transports  his  spec- 
ulators into  the  regions  of  poetry  and  enchantment. 
Bryan's  Dictionary  of  Painters  and  Engravers. 


27S 


St.  Mark.  But  this  is  a  doctrine,  of  which  any 
further  illustration  is  unnecessary,  by  a  reference 
to  particular  examples.  Its  admission,  how- 
ever, leads  almost  necessarily  to  a  conclusion 
the  very  reverse  of  the  opinion  which  fur- 
nishes ground  for  unfavourable  predictions 
concerning  the  arts.  If  the  study  of  nature  be  as 
indispensible  to  the  attainment  of  excellence  in 
painting  as  an  acquaintance  with  its  technical 
rules,  surely  in  this  case  nothing  will  contribute 
more  to  enlighten  the  taste  of  the  artist,  than 
for  him  to  visit  foreign  countries  and  to  com- 
pare with  the  works  of  their  eminent  masters, 
their  local  and  characteristick  beauties  of  scene- 
ry and  manners.  A  vast  repository  like  that 
of  the  Louvre,  was  certainly  a  great  convenience. 
It  no  doubt  facilitated  in  a  wonderful  manner, 
the  acquisition  of  a  certain  portion  of  talent, 
but  it  was  not  calculated  to  assist  the  progress 
of  the  artist  beyond  mediocrity.  In  all  those 
arts  where  success  depends  chiefly  upon  the 
powers  of  invention  and  imagination,  by  re- 
moving difficulties  and  affording  facilities,  we 
restrict  them  to  a  certain  measure  of  excellence. 
It  is  that  confidence  in  its  own  powers  of  which 
genius  becomes  conscious,  in  consequence  of 
its  struggles  with  difficulty,  that  renders  it  dar- 
ing and  inventive. 

36 


274 

Pater  ipse  colendi 
Haud  facilem  viam  esse  voluit.- 
■ 
And  if  in  the  case  of  the  humble  and  mechani- 
cal employment  of  the  husbandman,  this  truth 
is  illustrated,  how  much  more  strongly  is  it  ex- 
emplified in  those  arts  where  mediocrity  and 
dullness*  are  so  nearly  synonymous. 

As  a  trophy  the  most  splendid  that  could  be 
offered  to  the  French,  to  flatter  their  passion  for 
military  glory,  and  as  a  monument  of  nation- 
al  liberality  and  taste,  the  Louvre  must  be  a 
subject  of  inexhaustible  regret  to  every  patrio- 
tick  Frenchman.  I  am  far  from  professing 
to  advocate  the  policy,  which  sanctions  the 
means  by  which  its  spoils  were  accumulated, 
at  the  same  time,  when  I  reflect  that  many 
of  them  were  removed  from  situations,  in 
which  their  beauties  were  lost,  and  in  which 
they  were  exposed  to  the  injurious  influence 
of  humidity  and  smoke,  and  when  I  recol- 
lect the  fondness  and  veneration  with  which 
the  French  people  cherished  these  precious 
acquisitions,    I  cannot   in  speaking  of   them, 


*  ?  Mediocribus  esse  poetis 
Ifon  di,  non  homines,  non  concessere  columnse. 


275 

apply  the  appellation  of  robbers  to  those,  who 
chose  as  the  proudest  monument  of  the  suc- 
cess of  their  arms,  the  long  venerated  works 
of  genius,  and  who  did  not  consider  the  su- 
periority of  their  country  over  Europe  as  com- 
plete, until  they  saw  her  in  possession  of  those 
treasures,  which  would  render  her  absolute 
likewise,  in  the  empire  of  taste. 

I  traversed  again  the  vestibule  and  descend- 
ed the  staircase,  and  admiring  on  my  way  the 
works  of  genius,  which  here  solicit  the  attention, 
I  found  myself  at  length  in  the  long  portico 
under  the  gallery,  in  which,  as  in  the  arcades 
of  the  Palais  Royale  and  St.  Mark,  are  peo- 
ple continully  passing  and  repassing.  I  pro- 
ceeded on  towards  the  Arno,  and  turning  to 
the  right,  I  stopped  at  the  Ponte  Vecchio  to 
view  the  airy  and  magnificent  bridge  of  delta 
Trinitd.  It  is  built  of  marble  and  stands  up- 
on three  eliptical  arches.  The  four  statues 
that  adorn  it,  are  the  four  seasons  of  the 
year.  Winter  is  personified  in  the  form  of 
a  palsied  and  naked  old  man.  On  the  Ponte 
Vecchio,  as  upon  the  Rialto  at  Venice,  are 
shops  filled,  principally,  with  articles  of  jew- 
elry. A  number  of  peasant  girls,  distinguish- 
ed by  their  hats  and  plumes,  stood  at  the  win- 


276 


dows  of  these  shops,  admiring  their  display  of 
finery,  and  making  purchases  preparatory  to 
a  fete  to  take  place  the  following  day,  near 
the  city,  on  the  banks  of  the  Arno.  At  the 
southern  termination  of  this  bridge,  stands  a 
celebrated  piece  of  sculpture,  by  Giovanni  di 
Bologna,  representing  Hercules  vanquishing 
Nessus. 

Proceeding  on,  nearly  in  a  direct  line,  I 
arrived  at  the  piazza  before  the  palace  Pitt?. 
An  opulent  and  aspiring  individual  of  the 
name  of  Pitti,  jealous  of  the  fortunes  and 
power  of  the  Medici,  intended  by  the  erection 
of  this  edifice  to  eclipse  the  palace  Riccardi, 
erected  on  a  plan  of  Michael  Angelo  for  the 
great  Cosmo.  An  insidious  attempt  made  on 
the  life  of  Piero  de  Medici,  as  he  was  return- 
ing to  Florence  from  Careggi,  and  which  was 
baffled  by  an  extraordinary  instance  of  cou- 
rage and  presence  of  mind  in  Lorenzo,  was 
generally  imputed  to  Pitti  and  his  adherents. 
The  consequence  of  which  was  their  disgrace, 
and  the  triumph  of  the  Medici.  Pitti  sunk 
into  contempt,  and  his  superb  mansion  was 
purchased  by  the  family,  whose  influence  he 
had  laboured  to  undermine. 


277 


We  see  in  the  facade  of  the  Pallazzo  Pitti, 
tliat  character  of  strength,  which,    in  general, 
gives  to  the  exteriour  of  the  Florentine  palaces 
a  heavy  appearance,  which  ill  agrees  with  the 
light  and   graceful  embellishments  lavished  in 
their  interiour.     The  stones  with   which  it   is 
faced,    give  to   the    whole   front  a  harsh  and 
rugged  look,  and   although  the  designs  of  its 
doors  and  windows  are  beautiful,  they   are  so 
few  in  number,    as  not  to  alleviate   the  hea- 
vy and  solid  gloom  of  its  walls,  and   to  sof- 
ten the    air  of  sullen  grandeur,    that  prevails 
over  the  whole  edifice.     This  style  of  architec- 
ture, however,  predominates  only  on  the  front 
of  the  building  exposed  to  the  piazza.     The 
Cortile  from  which  is  seen  the  extensive  gar- 
dens of  Boboliy  presents  to  the  eye  the  Gre- 
cian orders  in  three  several  stories.     The  spa- 
cious and  delightful   gardens,   of  which  there 
is  a  prospect  from  this  cortile,  were,  when  I 
saw  them,  decked   with  all  their  charms.     It 
is    difficult   to   imagine   an   appearance     more 
beautiful,  than  they  made.    Arbours  and  groves 
echoing     with   the    musick    of   birds,    an  air 
impregnated   with  flowers   and  refreshed  with 
fountains,    walks    and   alleys    bordered     with 
statues,  awakening  in  these   delicious    scenes, 
the  pictures  of  poetry  and  fable,  and   blending 


278 

with  the  pleasures  of  sense,  the  delights  of 
fancy,  were  well  fitted  to  banish  discontent, 
and  to  fill  the  mind  with  images  of  happi- 
ness. 

Ascending  through  walks  encompassed  with 
thickets  and  foliage,  the  visitor  is  led  on 
to  a  commanding  eminence,  called  the  Belvi- 
dere.  From  the  coffee-house  or  Pavillion 
which  crowns  it,  there  is  a  prospect  of  Flo- 
rence and  its  environs — Monte  Murello — the 
ruins  of  Fiesole,  and  the  cities  of  Prato  and  Pis- 
toia.  On  the  right  extends  the  vale  of  Arno 
in  all  its  beauty,  decorated  with  villages,  cot- 
tages and  abbeys,  and  bounded  to  the  north 
by  the  wild  and  naked  scenery  of  the  Apennines, 
upon  the  summit  of  one  of  which  wave  the 
forests  of  Vallombrosa, 

Where  the  Etrurian  shades 
High  over  arch'd  embower. 

Descending  from  the  tower  of  the  Belvidere, 
and  after  wandering  among  beautiful  parterres, 
and  through  alleys  darkened  by  an  impene- 
trable foliage  of  vines  and  laurels,  the  visitor 
enters  a  spacious  meadow,  and  at  length  ar- 
rives at  a  magnificent  fountain.      A  colossal 


279 

statue  of  the  god  of  the  ocean,  stands  upon  an 
insulated  basin  of  granite.  Three  figures  repre- 
senting the  Nile,  the  Ganges  and  Euphrates, 
pour  their  streams,  around  which  are  distri- 
buted by  means  of  various  subterraneous  pas- 
sages to  other  fountains  in  the  garden. 

While  the  votaries  of  fashion  prefer  the  gay 
parades  along  the  Arno>  the  gardens  of  Boboli 
appear  to  be  the  favourite  haunt  of  contempla- 
tive minds.  I  saw  many  persons  walking  about 
with  books  in  their  hands,  and  others  who  ap- 
peared to  be  deeply  engaged  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  their  own  thoughts.  The  deep  abstraction 
and  solitary  enthusiasm  depicted  in  the  coun- 
tenances and  air  of  these  figures,  were  strikingly 
contrasted  with  the  sprightly  looks  and  spor- 
tive gambols  of  some  women  and  children,  beau- 
tiful as  the  statues  that  surrounded  them,  and 
speaking  a  language  as  soft  as  the  breeze,  or 
the  murmurs  of  the  fountain. 

The  palace  Pitti  is  the  residence  of  the  pre- 
sent grand  Duke,  and  its  interiour  is  fitted  up 
with  great  elegance.  Its  collection  of  pictures 
appeared  to  me  to  surpass  that  of  the  publick 
gallery,  and  is  composed  chiefly  of  pieces  that 
I  had  before  seen  in  the  Louvre.     Its  apart* 


280 


merits  are  decorated  with  tables  of  porphyry 
and  oriental  alabaster,  inlaid  with  beautiful 
imitations  of  fruits,  flowers  and  shell-work,  in 
cornelian,  agate,  jasper  and  lapis-lazuli.  But 
the  greatest  Wonder  of  art  it  contains,  is  the 
Venus  of  Canova.  This  artist  modestly  ob- 
jected to  its  occupying  the  vacant  pedestal  of 
the  Venus  de  Medicis  in  the  gallery,  although 
it  is  fully  qualified  to  succeed  to  the  latter, 
and  even  dispute  with  it  the  prize  of  beau- 
ty. A  light  drapery  enveloped  in  her  right 
arm,  falls  in  graceful  folds,  and  shades  her 
right  side  as  far  as  the  middle  of  the  leg.  Like 
the  Venus  de  Medicis,  this  statue  stoops 
forward,  and  the  head  is  turned  to  the  left. 
Its  look,  however,  does  not  indicate  the  timi- 
dity apparent  in  the  air  and  attitude  of  the 
Greek  model,  but  expresses  a  mixed  emotion 
of  modestv  and  complacencv. 

At  Florence  there  is  a  class  of  poetasters, 
who,  when  a  stranger  arrives,  wait  upon  him 
and  present  him  with  a  copy  of-  verses,  cele- 
brating his  visit  to  the  banks  of  the  Arno.  The 
morning  after  my  arrival,  the  cameriere  entered 
my  apartment,  and  desired  to  know  if  I  would 
allow  him  to  introduce  to  me  one  of  these  sons 
of  Apollo.     The  poet  made  his  appearance  and 


281 


addressed  me  with  all  the  courtesy  characteris- 
tick  of  a  Florentine,  and  the  purport  of  his 
discourse  was  to  explain  to  me  the  nature  and 
object  of  a  little  book  which  he  held  in  his  hand, 
and  which  he  begged  me  to  accept.  Upon  open- 
ing it,  I  laughed  to  find  my  name  inscribed  in 
the  title  page,  with  many  appellations  of  honour 
prefixed  to  it,  and  my  character  exalted  with 
every  extravagant  epithet  of  verse.  I  told  my 
panegyrist  that  he  had  mistaken  my  rank  and 
condition,  that  I  was  neither  lord  nor  baro- 
net, but  a  plain  bourgeois,  and  to  be  made  the 
subject  of  an  Italian  sonnet  was  an  honour  I 
never  dreamed  of,  and  to  which  I  could  not 
aspire.  His  countenance,  which  had  narrowly 
watched  mine,  fell  at  this  intelligence,  and  he 
was  making  preparations  to  retire,  but  as  I  per- 
ceived by  his  dress 

How  hard  it  is  to  climb 
The  steep,  where  fame's  proud  temple  shines  afar, 

— and  as  I  was  upon  the  banks  of  the  Arno,  the 
Arcadia  of  Italy,  and  consequently  enamoured 
with  every  thing  in  the  shape  of  poetry,  I  call- 
ed him  ba>  k,  and  begged  him  to  accept  a  tri- 
fling donation.  His  eyes  sparkled  with  plea- 
sure, Apollo  descended  upon  him,  and  unable 
37 


282 

to  shake  off  the  mighty  influence  of  the  god, 
he  placed  himself  in  an  oratorical  attitude  and 
declaimed  some  verses  extempore. 

The  talent  of  improvisation  is  not  confined 
to  Italy,  although  it  is  here  more  frequently  and 
naturally  called  into  activity  than  in  other 
countries.  His  freedom  from  social  restraints 
co-operating  with  the  charms  of  his  climate, 
render  the  Italian  peculiarly  susceptible  of  live- 
ly and  passionate  feelings,  and  endow  him 
with  a  high  degree  of  poetical  sensibility.  The 
vowel  terminations  also  of  the  Italian  language, 
— its  transpositive  character — the  extent  and 
variety  of  its  powers  with  regard  to  poetical 
harmony,  renders  it  a  very  powerful  and  flexible 
instrument  in  the  hand  of  an  extemporaneous 
poet  or  declaimer,  and  to  the  readiness  with 
which  the  language  of  Italy  furnishes  the  poet, 
with  a  diction  at  once  splendid  and  various, 
may  be  added  the  power  of  its  classick  scenes, 
to  touch  the  heart  and  inspire  the  fancy. 

The  celebrated  Carlo  Marone>  who  flou- 
rished in  the  court  of  Leo  the  tenth,  is  said 
to  have  extemporised  in  latin  hexameters,  and 
in  the  boldness  of  his  metaphors  and  the  rich- 
ness of  his  imagery,  to  have  rivalled  some   of 


283 


the  most  admired  passages  of  the  Roman  poets. 
The  genius  of  this  extraordinary  man  may 
have  enabled  him,  to  vanquish  the  difficul- 
ties with  which  he  must  have  struggled  in 
composing  impromptu,  under  the  restraints  of 
ancient  prosody.  When  the  subject  proposed 
was  of  a  serious  and  lofty  kind,  he  commenc* 
ed  by  a  regular  exordium,  and  as  he  proceed- 
ed his  impassioned  looks,  voice  and  gesture, 
bore  evidence  of  genuine  inspiration.  Persons, 
who  possess  this  talent,  when  properly  kindled 
by  their  subject,  realise  Virgil's  description  of 
the  frantick  prophetess  of  Cumasa.  Their 
eyes  roll  with  a  fine  poetick  phrenzy,  their 
looks  and  voice  become  more  than  human, 
and  the  picturesque  effect  of  their  gestures, 
give  additional  force  and  beauty  to  the  glowing 
language  of  an  inspired  imagination.  Those 
who  have  witnessed  the  recitations  of  Gianni, 
give  this  account  of  the  manner  of  that  illustri- 
ous improvisators  It  is  also  worthy  of  re- 
mark, that  this  man,  the  spontaneous  effusions 
of  whose  genius  were  heard  with  so  much  de- 
light and  wonder,  has  left  nothing  composed? 
in  the  retirement  of  the  closet,  which  can  chal- 
lenge a  similar  degree  of  admiration.  Madame 
Mazzei,  a  Florentine  lady,  of  an  ancient  and 
illustrious  family,  like  Carlo    Marone,  is  ano- 


284 

ther  example  to  prove,  that  the  wonderful  in- 
ventive powers  displayed  by  some  Italian  im- 
provisator^ are  not  ascribable  altogether  to 
the  facilities  afforded  by  the  Italian  language, 
when  employed  as  a  vehicle  ef  poetick  sen- 
timent. She,  occasionally,  made  choice  of 
some  of  the  most  difficult  measures  of  Ita- 
lian poetry,  and  recited  with  an  equal  com- 
mand of  expression,  in  the  magnificent  oc- 
taves of  Tasso,  the  solemn  tiercets  of  Dante, 
and  the  loose  and  unconstrained  numbers  of 
Metastasio. 

A  serene  sky  J  that  darted  its  beams  into  my 
apartment,  and  a  softly  undulating  atmosphere, 
announced  one  of  those  fine  mornings,  not 
unusual  in  Tuscany.  I  directed  my  steps  to 
the  borders  of  the  Arno,  and  joined  the  mul- 
titude that  was  passing  through  the  Porta  al 
Prato.  I  arrived  among  the  groves  that  shade 
the  borders  of  the  river,  and  hailed  the  stream, 
to  whose  murmurs  Milton  used  to  listen  with 
delight,  and  upon  whose  banks  shaded  by 
poplars,  and  strewed  with  violets,  he  was  wont 
to  lay  and  court  the  Tuscan  muse, 

Canto  del  mio  buon  popolo  non  inteso, 
E'l  bel,  Tamigi  cangio  col  bel  Arno. 


285 


As  I  proceeded  onward,  I  perceived  tents  erect- 
ed, and  tables  covered  with  refreshments,  and 
old  men  and  women  with  flowers  in  their  hats, 
and  children  gambolling  before  them  upon  the 
green ;  with  these  were  intermixed  dancing 
groups,  whose  graceful  and  debonair  steps 
were  expressive  of  light  hearts  and  animated 
feelings.  The  aristocracy  of  wealth  and  fa- 
shion drove  up,  in  their  splendid  equipages,  to 
this  scene,  and  contemplated  it  from  the  win- 
dows of  their  carriages,  or  descended  among 
the  dancers  upon  the  green. 

That  proud  fastidiousness,  with  which  the 
noble  and  opulent  of  other  countries  are  apt 
to  look  down  upon  the  amusements  of  the 
lower  orders,  and  which  is  not  less  character- 
istick  of  a  want  of  taste,  than  of  an  unnatural 
insensibility,  which  refuses  to  sympathize  with 
the  pleasures  or  sorrows  of  the  poor,  is  a  trait 
which  does  not  mark  the  higher  classes  in  Ita- 
ly, however,  some  circumstances  may  seem  to 
favour  the  supposition  of  such  a  feature  in  their 
character.  Nor  is  this  the  only  instance,  in 
which  nature  in  Italy  triumphs  over  the  pre- 
judices and  artificial  distinctions  of  society. 
Marriages  contracted  under  these  prejudices, 
in  which   the    considerations     of  familv    and 


286 


wealth  remove  the  greatest  inequalities,  that  may 
exist  in  point  of  age  and  natural  disposition, 
lead  to  the  violation  of  the  nuptial  vow,  and  her 
example  may  teach  America,  where  marriage 
chastity  is  yet  guarded  by  the  simplicity  of 
her  manners,  and  the  republican  purity  of  her 
laws,  how  necessarily  the  loss  of  this  virtue, 
and  of  all  the  domestick  honours  and  cdmforts 
connected  with  it,  follow  those  pernicious  in* 
stitutions,  which  uphold  the  proud  pretensions 
of  family  and  wealth. 

The  exteriour  of  many  of  the  churches  of 
Florence  yet  remain  unfinished.  Santa  Croce, 
Santo  Spirito  and  St.  Lorenzo,  possess  no  ex- 
ternal magnificence.  Even  the  front  of  the 
Duomo  is  yet  naked,  and  the  columns  sketch- 
ed upon  it,  are  a  mockery  which  degrades  this 
noble  edifice.  Its  exteriour  is  encrusted  with 
black  and  white  marble,  and  over  it  rises  that 
superb  dome,  which  was  designed  by  the  im- 
mortal BunellescOy  and  within  view  of  which 
Michael  Angelo  desired  to  be  buried.  The 
character  of  its  interiour  is  sombre  and  severe. 
Its  windows  of  painted  glass,  throw  over  its 
tombs  and  altars  a  dim  religious  light,  which 
accords  with  the  mysteries  of  religion  and 
the  solemnity  of  prayer.     Its  dome  was  painted 


287 

by  Vasari,  and  represents,  in  great  detail,  the 
scene  of  the  day  of  judgment.  The  figures,  when 
seen  from  below,  appear  not  to  exceed  the 
proportions  qf  nature,  but  viewed  from  the 
galleries  above,  they  are  frightfully  gigantick. 
The  solemn  grandeur  of  this  ancient  cathe- 
dral, is  not  a  little  increased  by  the  recollec- 
tion, that  its  pavement  was  stained  with  the 
blood  of  Juliana  de  Medici,  and  that  its  walls 
witnessed  the  last  desperate,  but  ineffectual 
struggles,  that  were  made  for  the  liberties  of 
Florence. 

Directly  in  front  of  this  cathedral  stands  the 
baptistery,  celebrated  for  its  portals  of  bronze, 
on  which  Ghiberti,  with  a  patience  almost  in- 
credible, has  engraven  a  series  of  scriptural' 
events,  and  crowded  into  a  small  compass 
an  infinite  variety  of  figures  all  marked  with 
the  expression  of  life.  The  merit  of  the 
sculpture  displayed  on  these  doors  filled  Mi- 
chael Angelo  with  wonder,  and  prompted  him 
to  declare  with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  artist,  that 
they  were  worthy  of  being  the  gates  of  Para- 
dise. 

In  the  sacristy  at  the  church  of  St.  Lorenzo, 
are  the  statues  of  the  Medicis  bv  Michael  An- 


288 


gelo.  That  of  Lorenzo  is  meditating  vengeance 
for  his  brother,  who  fell  under  the  dagger  of 
the  Pazzi  at  the  altar  of  the  cathedral.  Be- 
neath them  are  forms  of  Night  and  Aurora. 
The  figure  of  Night  denotes,  that  death  is  a 
sleep,  but  the  presence  of  Aurora  intimates 
that  it  is  not  an  eternal  sleep.  The  unfinished 
chapel,  belonging  to  the  same  family,  of  mar- 
ble and  inlaid  with  precious  stones,  bespeaks  a 
degree  of  private  opulence,  of  which  Italy  at 
present  furnishes  no  example.  This  splendid 
mausoleum  stands  above  the  vaults  destined  for 
the  reception  of  the  mortal  remains  of  the  family 
whose  name  it  bears.  They  lie  in  coffins  piled 
one  upon  the  other.  I  expressed  my  surprise  at 
the  indecent  manner  in  which  these  revered  re- 
mains were  suffered  to  lie  huddled  together,  to 
the  person  who  attended  me,  he  replied,  that  the 
cares  of  the  present  grand  Duke  were  so  much 
occupied  with  the  wants  of  the  living,  that  he 
had  no  leisure  to  attend  to  concerns  of  the  dead. 
Here  is  the  celebrated  Laurentian  library,  in 
which  were  deposited  the  treasures  of  ancient  li- 
terature, collected  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Medicis.  In  this  library  were  lodged  the  fa- 
mous pandects  of  Justinian  found  at  Amalji. 


289 

The  church  of  Santa  Croce,  is  the  West- 
minster Abbey  of  Florence.  It  contains  the 
tombs  of  Michael  Angelo,  Machiavelli,  Gali- 
leo, Boccacio,  and  Alfieri,  names  that  will  be 
revered  and  cherished,  as  long  as  the  arts  and 
Italian  literature  shall  continue  to  be  cultivated. 

After  indulging  the  recollections  inspired 
by  the  tombs  of  Santa  Croce,  the  admirer  of 
classick  literature,  may  visit  the  brow  of  Fiesole 
and  the  delightful  villas  of  Careggi  Poggio 
Caiano  and  Pratolino,  scenes  that  were  the  hal- 
lowed haunts  of  the  Tuscan  muse,  and  conse- 
crated by  the  names  of  Politian,  Lorenzo  and 
Picusdi  Mirandula.* 

Florence  has  been  the  theatre  of  the  fiercest 
factions,  and  family  feuds  have  given  a  par- 
ticular conformation  to  the  palaces  of  its  nobi- 
lity. Here  the  Bianchi  and  JVeri  furiously  con- 
tended, and  the  Guelphs  and  the  Ghibelines  al- 
ternately assassinated  and  banished  each  other. 
But  let  us  not  forget  the  powerful  spirits  that 

*  The  extraordinary  endowments  and  acquirements 
of  Picus  di  Jlirandula,  are  expressed  in  the  appellation 
monstrum  sine  vitio,  by  which  this  wonderful  man  was 
frequently  designated. 

38 


290 


rode  the  waves  of  these  political  storms,  nor 
those  intellectual  heroes  who  issued  from  the 
bosom  of  this  tempestuous  republick.  Here 
Machiavelli  gathered  the  most  valuable  mate- 
rials of  his  immortal  writings.  It  was  the  birth 
place  of  Dante  the  father  of  Italian  poetry, 
whose  comprehensive  mind  has  mixed  with  the 
tcrrifick  visions  of  a  future  world,  the  event- 
ful scenes  of  the  past. 

Political  strife  is  the  nurse  of  valour  and  of 
genius.  The  talents  of  Epaminondas,  Cicero 
and  Ceesar,  were  cradled  in  the  bosom  of  ci- 
vil dissention,  and  Virgil  and  Horace,  although 
they  brought  to  the  shrine  of  despotism  the 
choicest  offerings  of  their  muse,  yet  they  had 
witnessed  the  struggles  of  expiring  freedom, 
and  saw  its  last  remains  scattered  to  the  winds. 
Let  any  one  listen  to  the  strains  of  the  bard, 
who  sang  obsequies  of  Roman  liberty  and  say, 
whether  the  narcotick  gloom  that  succeeded  its 
extinction,  was  not  as  well  calculated  to  damp 
the  flame  of  poetick  inspiration  as  to  subdue 
the  spirit  of  the  warrior,  and  to  degrade  the 
eloquence  of  the  orator. 


291 


'The  evening  I  left  Florence  -was  serene,  and 
the  mellow  colouring  diffused  over  every  ob- 
ject by  the  setting  sun,  gave  a  peculiar  rich- 
ness to  the  features  of  its  glowing  scenery. 
A  succession  of  beautiful  landscapes  illumi- 
nated by  the  softer  rays  of  twilight,  continu- 
ed to  offer  themselves  to  view,  until  the  day 
totally  disappeared.  Nor  did  the  night  dis- 
close a  spectacle  less  wonderful,  than  that  of 
the  day  had  been  beautiful.  The  atmosphere 
swarmed  with  the  large  fire  fly  of  Tuscany, 
which  rose  from  the  neighbouring  fields,  and 
filled  the  air  with  particles  of  living  fire.  I 
have  seldom,  even  in  America,  seen  this  phe- 
nomenon exhibited  on  a  scale  so  magnificent. 

The  second  night  after  leaving  Florence, 
I  arrived  at  the  lake  of  Bolsena.  I  lamented 
that  I  was  obliged  to  pass  an  object  so  remark- 
able, at  an  hour  when   it  was  invisible.     But 


292 

in  the  course  of  my  return  from  Rome  to 
Florence,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  it 
in  all  its  grandeur  and  beauty.  The  day  was 
stormy,  and  the  surface  of  the  lake  was  tos- 
sing like  a  sea,  the  distant  woods  that  over- 
hung its  shores  were  dark  and  terrifick,  with 
the  black  clouds  that  hovered  above  them, 
and  its  islands,  which  were  clothed  with  a 
thick  verdure,  were  enveloped  in  the  same 
deep  and  sombre  colouring.  The  waves  roll- 
ed with  a  wild  and  hollow  sound  to  the  shore, 
and  the  thunder,  which  was  heard  at  intervals 
accompanying  the  roar  of  the  lake,  gave  an 
additional  grandeur  to  the  scene.  The  aspect 
of  the  country  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
this  lake  is  extremely  wild,  and  even  if  I  had  not 
heard  that  it  was  infested  with  banditti,  I  could 
not  have  imagined  a  scene  or  an  hour  more 
fitted  for  them  to  appear.  Salvator  Rosa's 
fancy  could  not  have  formed  a  picture  more 
romantically  wild,  and  which  a  group  of  ban- 
ditti would  have  graced  with  more  effect.  Bol- 
sena  stands  upon  the  ruins  of  Falsinium,  the 
capital  of  the  ancient  Volsci.  The  artificial 
grottoes  and  quarries  of  Puzzolanay  that  are 
near  the  ruined  village  of  St.  Lorenzo,  assist 
the  terrifick  apprehensions  of  the  traveller,  who, 
independent  of  the  fearful  tales  he  has  heard,. 


293 


readily  imagines  them  the  haunts  of  robbers. 
The  desolated  village  of  St.  Lorenzo  is  a  re- 
markable object,  and  I  could  not  help  turn, 
ing  frequently  to  observe  its  picturesque  effect, 
as  the  carriage  proceeded  slowly  up  the  hill 
that  overlooks  it,  and  as  its  scene  of  dilapi- 
dated walls  and  houses,  surmounted  by  the 
tottering  spire  of  a  church,  seen  from  diffe- 
rent points  of  view,  varied  its  appearance.  It 
was  evening  before  we  arrived  at  a  second 
village  of  the  same  name,  to  which  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  former  were  transferred,  on  ac- 
count of  the  insalubrity  of  the  atmosphere. 
The  tardiness,  with  which  the  vehicle  moved 
on,  suffered  me  leisurely  to  inspect  the  fea- 
tures of  the  landscape.  The  moon  was  now 
up,  and  diffused  a  softened  light  over  the  tops 
of  the  woods,  that  swept  down  to  the  shores 
of  the  lake,  whose  broad  expanse,  no  lon- 
ger vexed  by  the  hurricane,  reflected,  like  a 
mirrour,  all  the  effulgence  of  an   Italian  sky. 

To  a  mind  accustomed  to  connect  the  idea 
of  beauty  with  utility,  the  environs  of  Home 
must  appear  to  be  destitute  of  all  claims  what- 
ever, to  the  epithet  of  beautiful.  This  soil  so 
fertile  in  illustrious  events,  and  so  full  of  inte- 


294 


rest  to  a  warm  and  pregnant  imagination,  must 
be  displeasing  in  a  high  degree,  to  the  taste  of 
a  professed  agriculturist.  So  great  an  extent  of 
country  lying  waste  and  idle,  raises  ideas 
which  overpower  in  his  mind  the  influence  of 
classick  images  and  feelings.  He  encounters 
no  objects  that  indicate  a  frugal  and  laborious 
population,  or  any  of  those  substantial  com- 
forts, upon  which  the  poet  has  laid  so  peculiar 
a  stress,  in  describing  the  beauties  of  cultivat- 
ed nature,  in  a  country  which  possesses  be- 
yond all  others  the  attractions  of  rural  elegance. 

On  every  hand 
Thy  villas  shine,  thy  country  teems  with  wealth. 
And  property  assures  it  to  the  swain, 
Pleased,  and  unwearied  in  his  guarded  toil. 

Nor  is  the  first  view  of  this  city  more  in  uni- 
son with  the  feelings  of  a  mere  man  of  the 
world*  How  different  are  his  sensations  in  ap- 
proaching Rome,  from  those  he  experiences 
on  entering  Paris,  Venice  or  Florence  !  But 
to  a  mind  imbued  with  the  liberal  arts,  which 
has  been  accustomed  to  connect  with  visible 
objects,  the  visions  and  scenes  of  time  past,  and 
to  which  the  monuments  of  ancient  greatness  are 
endeared  by  the  force  of  sentiment  and  imagi- 


295 

nation,  how  awful,  how  impressive,  is  the  de- 
solate Campagna  that  surrounds  the  fallen  ca- 
pital of  the  world ! 

I  crossed  the  Tiber  at  the  Ponte  Mihio, 
two  miles  from  the  city,  and  entered  Rome 
by  the  Porta  del  Popolo.  It  opens  upon  a  square 
adorned  with  an  obelisk.  Here  the  Via  Fla- 
minia  ends  and  Via  Lata  commences  and  takes 
the  name  of  the  Corso.  My  attention  was 
drawn  by  a  procession  of  carriages,  which  en- 
tered the  piazza,  and  after  circling  the  obelisk  in 
the  centre,  returned  down  on  the  left  of  the  Cor- 
so. This  is  the  fashionable  promenade  at  Rome, 
and  exhibits  nothing  of  the  tumult  of  London 
or  the  gaiety  of  Paris.  I  joined  the  procession, 
which  carried  me  down  the  Corso  as  far  as  the 
open  space  which  surrounds  the  column  of  An- 
tonine.  Shaded  by  the  dimness  of  twilight,  this 
colossal  monument,  towering  in  the  air,  seemed 
to  frown  upon  the  works  of  modern  art  around 
it.  If  I  may  be  permitted  to  make  the  com- 
parison, how  well  did  its  lonely  and  insulated 
grandeur,  harmonize  with  those  solitary  emo- 
tions I  felt,  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  to  which  I 
was  utterly  unknown,  whose  views  and  inte- 
rests had  no  connexion  with  mine,  and  from 
whom  I  seemed  not  less  detached  bv  educa- 


296 

tion,  habits  and  country.  I  was  frequently  on  the 
point  of  inquiring  the  way  to  an  inn,  and  over- 
powered by  the  influence  of  this  gloomy  senti- 
ment, my  tongue  seemed  to  refuse  its  ordina- 
ry office,  and  to  resist  the  impulse  of  the  will. 
These  melancholy  impressions,  operating  upon 
a  frame  languid  with  fatigue,  were,  however, 
themselves  soon  exhausted,  and  nature  admi- 
nistered that  restorative  of  the  mind,  which 
has  called  forth  in  praise  of  its  inventor,  one 
of  the  happiest  effusions  of  Sancho  Panzd's 
eloquence. 

The  Doge  of  Genoa,  when  he  visited  Ver- 
sailles, said  ce  qui  irfetonne  le  plus  ici  c'est  de 
rrCy  voir.  It  was  under  the  influence  of  a 
similar  scepticism,  that  I  awoke  the  first  morn- 
ing in  Rome.  For  some  time,  I  could  scarce- 
ly persuade  myself  that  I  was  so  near  St.  Pe- 
ter's, that  in  an  hour  I  should  behold  the  Coli- 
seum, and  stand  upon  the  site  of  the  ancient 
capitol,  where  the  genius  of  Rome  dispersed 
her  triumphant  eagles  over  the  world,  and 
where  her  victorious  generals  received  their 
laurels.  Over  my  bed  hung  a  cross  and  a 
copy  of  the  Madonna  del/a  Sedia,  and  opposite, 
a  fine  full  length  portrait  of  Lambertini  Bene- 


297 

edict  the  fourteenth.  The  brilliant  rays  that 
were  darted  against  the  windows  of  the  apart- 
ment, announced  the  resplendant  sun  of  Ita- 
ly.    Yes  !  I  exclaimed  to  myself  this  is  Rome ! 

***  Passing  through  a  succession  of  narrow 
and  dirty  streets,  the  carriage  stopped,  at  length, 
at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  leading  to  the  capi- 
tol.  This  staircase  is  adorned  with  objects, 
that  awaken  interesting  recollections.  The  mo- 
dern edifice,  that  occupies  the  site  of  the  an. 
cient  capitol,  is  a  performance  of  Michael  An~ 
gelo,  and  unworthy  of  his  genius.  Before  it 
stands  an  equestrian  statue  of  Marcus  Aurelius. 
How  composed  and  calm  it  appears,  in  the 
midst  of  ruins  that  encompass  it.  Time,  which 
has  levelled  about  it  the  proudest  structures 
of  art,  has  not  disturbed  a  single  feature  of 
its  mild  and  majestick  countenance.  The 
stoical  grandeur,  that  marks  the  aspect  of  this 
figure,  is  not  more  admirable,  than  the  life, 
spirit  and  grace  of  the  horse  upon  which  it 
sits.  "March,"  said  Carlo  Maratti  to  it, 
"  do  you  forget  that  you  live  ?" 

Upon  this  hill  Manlius  resisted  the  Gauls, 
and  the  Tarpeian  rock,  from  which  he  was 
precipitated,  is   upon  its  borders ;    a  few  pa- 

39 


398 


ces  only  separate  the  scene  of  his  glory  and  nis 
punishment.  Behind  the  capitol  was  the  forum  ; 
and  the  ruins  of  temples,  palaces  and  triumphal 
arches,  which  surround  this  hallowed  spot,  do 
not  inspire  any  emotion  so  grand,  as  those  excit- 
ed by  the  recollection,  that  it  was  once  the  cho- 
sen the  sanctuary  of  freedom.  No  object  can 
exceed  in  moral  grandeur  that  senate  house, 
where  liberty  reigned,  and  upon  the  floor  of 
which  she  expired.  In  sight  of  this  senate 
house  stood  the  temple  of  Jupiter  Stator,  three 
columns  of  whose  portico  are  yet  standing. 
Jt  was  to  this  that  the  sublime  address  of  Ci- 
cero  was  directed,  when  unveiling  to  the  se- 
nate the  secret  transactions  of  Cataline's  ruf- 
fian band,  and  anxious  for  the  safety  of  Rome, 
he  invoked  the  protection  of  her  tutelary 
divinity. 

The  fragments  of  Nero's  palace,  and  the 
temple  of  the  sun,  the  temple  of  peace,  the 
Coliseum  and  the  palace  of  the  Caesars,  are 
the  works  of  the  empire.  They  are  splendid 
but  terrifick  monuments  of  a  force  that  en- 
slaved mankind,  and  the  dark  picture  of  Ro- 
man servitude,  as  drawn  by  Tacitus,  recurs  to 
the  fancy,  in  contemplating  these  ruined  struc- 
tures which  only  the  hand  of  a  powerful  des- 


299 

potism  could  have  reared.  The  genius  of  the 
imperial  government  is  personified  in  these 
proud  remains  of  its  physical  strength,  which 
are  associated  in  their  influence  over  the  mind, 
with  that  moral  and  intellectual  gloom  into  which 
after  a  summer's  day  of  glory,  the  sun  of  Ro- 
man liberty  descended,  crimsoned  with  blood 
and  shame. 

The  palace  of  the  Casars  covers  Mount 
Palantine  with  its  ruins.  Underneath  them  lie 
the  baths  of  Livia  ;  the  paintings  that  ornament 
the  walls  and  ceilings,  are  still  fresh  and  beau- 
tiful. It  was  in  these  voluptuous  apartments, 
that  Augustus  in  his  old  age,  betrayed  in  his 
domestick  affections,  and  poisoned  by  his 
wife,  the  pander  of  his  criminal  appetites,  ter- 
minated his  existence.  The  Farnesian  gardens 
erected  by  Paul  the  third,  grace  at  present  this 
shapeless  mass  of  ruins.  The  vine  adorns 
it  with  luxuriant  festoons,  and  the  sweetest 
flowers  spring  from  a  source  polluted  with  the 
rankness  of  human  crimes. 

The  Coliseum  was  built  by  Vespasian  after 
his  victory  over  the  Jews.  Twelve  thousand 
captives  brought  from  Jerusalem  to  Rome, 
assisted  in  the  construction  of  this  vast  fabrick. 


500 


In  the  reign  of  Nero  its  arena  was  dyed 
with  the  blood  of  the  christian  martyrs.  It 
rivalled  in  magnificence,  the  most  splendid 
edifices  of  antiquity,  and  even  now  casts  into 
the  shade,  all  but  the  unequalled  majesty  of  St. 
Peters.  It  long  supplied  materials  for  the  con- 
struction of  other  edifices,  and  the  rude  hands 
of  hostile  invaders  have  not  more  defaced  it 
than  the  barbarism  of  those,  who  looked  upon 
it  only  as  a  quarry,  furnishing  in  inexhaustible 
profusion  the  treasures  of  ancient  art.  Paul 
the  third  demolished  a  considerable  portion  of 
it  for  these  purposes,  and  in  consequence  of 
this  act  of  pontifical  barbarism,  the  Romans 
couple  the  words  barbari  and  Barberini.  Some 
of  his  successors,  however,  have  endeavoured 
to  rescue  the  noble  edifice  from  ruin,  and  an 
immense  wall  built  by  the  present  pope,  sus- 
tains that  part  of  it  which  is  yet  entire. 

The  effect  of  these  majestick  ruins  is  greatest 
when  they  are  illuminated  by  the  moon.  Ob- 
jects which  time  and  violence  have  not  yet  mu- 
tilated, and  in  which  we  see  the  actual  triumph 
of  human  energy  over  the  elements,  lose  none 
of  their  magnificence  when  dressed  in  the  splen- 
dour of  the  sun.  But  the  sombre  twilight  of 
the  moon,  gives  to  the  aspect   of  desolation 


301 


a  melancholy  expression,  which  speaks  forci- 
bly to  the  fancy  and  the  heart.  The  pale 
and  uncertain  lustre  which  then  reveals  the 
face  of  things,  conspires,  with  the  silence  of  the 
hour,  to  aid  the  power  of  illusion,  and  diffuses 
over  the  objects  of  time  past,  a  mysterious 
charm  that  realizes  the  visions  of  imagination. 

The  second  morning  after  my  arrival,  II  set 
out  with  a  vast  in  my  hand  and  a  cicerone  at 
my  elbow,  to  view  the  churches  of  modern 
Rome.  It  is  in  the  magnificence  of  her  church- 
es that  modern  Rome  stands  unrivalled.  The 
prodigious  multitude  of  domes,  steeples  and 
obelisks  that  rise  in  the  air,  give  it  an  aspect  of 
grandeur  possessed  by  no  other  city  in  the 
world.  Viewed  from  the  deserted  Campagna 
that  surrounds  it,  how  majestick  and  imposing 
is  its  appearance.  The  superiority  of  taste  dis- 
played in  the  construction  of  its  religious  edi- 
fices, may  in  a  great  measure  be  ascribed  to 
those  incomparable  models  of  architecture  which 
the  ravages  of  barbarism  have  spared,  and 
which  even  in  their  present  mutilated  condi- 
tion are  the  wonder  of  the  universe. 

While   the  taste  of  ether  nations  yet  dis- 
played symptoms  of  the  rudest  barbarism,  the 


302 


Roman  capital  retained  some  portion  of  its 
love  for  that  purity  and  simplicity,  which  in 
this  art  distinguishes  the  masterpieces  of  an- 
cient genius.  Yet  even  in  Rome,  so  rich  in 
ancient  specimens  of  taste,  we  find  a  conside- 
rable departure  from  the  style  of  the  most  ap- 
proved patterns  of  Greek  and  Roman  architec- 
ture. A  disposition  to  encumber  their  works 
with  frivolous  ornament,  discovers  itself  in  the 
ablest  productions  of  the  moderns.  In  vain 
did  Bramante  and  Michael  Angelo  labour  to 
explode  this  gothick  taste.  They  were  them- 
selves carried  along  by  its  influence,  and  oblig- 
ed to  conform  to  it. 

As  the  christians  observed  in  the  forms  of 
their  churches,  in  some  measure,  the  rules  of 
Greek  and  Roman  architecture,  we  may  safe- 
ly infer,  that  the  splendour  of  this  art  in  Italy 
during  the  prevalence  of  the  dark  ages,  was  not 
totally  eclipsed.  Many  of  the  churches  which 
I  shall  afterwards  enumerate,  have  a  grandeur 
in  their  interiour  conformation,  that  demon- 
strates by  how  natural  a  transition  the  mo-" 
derns  were  led  to  copy  the  imposing  magni- 
tude and  spaciousness  of  the  ancient  temples. 
Many  of  the  ancient  Basiliccs  were  transform- 
ed into   churches,    and   so    convenient    were 


303 


the  form  and  distribution  of  these  edifices 
found  to  be,  that  in  many  instances  they 
have  been  adhered  to,  and  some  of  the  mo- 
dern christian  temples  illustrate  points  of  an- 
tiquarian research,  relative  to  this  particular 
class  of  buildings. 

In  viewing  some  of  the  churches  of  Rome, 
the  ruinous  and  neglected  appearance  of  their 
exteriour,  produces  an  unpleasing  effect,  when 
contrasted  with  the  splendour  and  magnificence 
of  their  interiour.  I  have  already  remarked  a 
similar  circumstance  at  Florence,  where  the 
facade  of  the  great  cathedral,  and  the  churches 
of  Spirito  Santo  and  Santa  Croce  and  St.  Lo- 
renzo, look  as  if  they  had  been  divested  of 
their  external  beauty  by  barbarian  violence. 
The  decline  of  the  Florentine  republick,  and 
the  poverty  which  of  course  ensued,  account 
satisfactorily  for  the  unfinished  state  in  which 
these  noble  specimens  of  architecture  are  suf- 
fered to  remain.  But  at  Rome  it  would  seem, 
that  they  considered  the  outward  decorations 
of  their  churches,  as  of  little  moment,  com- 
pared with  those  which  surround  the  altar, 
or  give  effect  to  the  colonnades  of  the  nave 
and  aisles.     The  churches  of  St.  Paolo  fuori 


304 


delle  Mura,  St.  Sebastian  and  St.  Laurence, 
are  examples  of  this  observation.  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  express  the  disappointment  felt  in  com- 
paring the  air  of  ruin  and  desolation,  that 
surrounds  the  outside  of  St.  Pao/o,  with  the 
fastuous  ornaments  that  environ  the  altar,  and 
the  overwhelming  grandeur  of  its  four  co- 
lonnades, as  they  present  themselves  to  a  spec- 
tator placed  in  the  chancel.  The  exteriour  of 
Santa  Maria  Maggiore  exhibited  the  same 
naked  appearance,  until  Benedict  the  fourteenth 
(Lambertini)  clothed  it  in  its  present  magni- 
ficence. 

The  ancient  temples  sometimes  furnished  the 
christians  with  a  place  to  celebrate  the  rites 
of  their  religion.  Here  were  altars  already 
raised,  and  considering  that  the  worship  of  the 
catholick  religion  endeavours,  like  the  super- 
stition it  banished,  to  captivate  and  impress 
the  external  senses,  a  circumstance,  perhaps, 
indispensable  in  the  most  intellectual  of  all 
religions,  the  conversion  of  the  former  abodes 
of  the  pagan  idols,  into  the  temples  of  the 
living  God,  does  not  appear  to  have  required 
the  removal  of  any   powerful  prejudices. 

Where  the  ruins  of  ancient  temples  have 
been  converted  into  churches,  their  svmmetry 


305 


has  been  destroyed  by  the  modern  engraft- 
ments,  and  exhibit,  in  some  instances,  a  de- 
pravity of  taste  unaccountable  in  those,  who 
had  constantly  before  them  the  standard  works 
of  antiquity.  But,  here  we  must  pause,  enough 
has  been  said  concerning  defects,  on  which 
it  is  almost  impious  to  dwell,  in  a  city,  decided- 
ly the  queen  of  all  others,  as  it  respects,  in 
general,  the  architectural  beauty  of  her  edi- 
fices, and  particularly  the  magnificence  of  her 
churches.  Even  Florence  and  Venice,  cele- 
brated as  they  are  for  the  sumptuousness  of 
their  palaces,  and  the  gorgeous  magnificence 
of  their  churches,  are  thrown  into  the  shade 
by  the  architectural  splendours  of  modern 
Rome. 

I  shall  now  enumerate  some  of  the  principal 
ehurches  in  Rome,  and  endeavour,  as  I  pass 
them  successively  in  review,  to  mark  their 
prominent  and  characteristick  features. 

St.  Pietro  in  vincoli — St.  Peter  in  chains,  for 
under  its  altar  is  said  to  be  deposited  the  holy 
manacles  and  chains  that  bound  St.  Peter. 
It  is  remarkable  for  the  splendour  of  its  sepul- 
chral monuments,  and  its  b-  autiful  Dorick 
colonnade  of  the  marble  of  Paros.  Its  most 
40 


306 


conspicuous  ornament,  however,  is  the  cele- 
brated statue  of  Moses,  by  Michael  Angelo, 
which  graces  the  tomb  of  Julius  the  second. 
This  statue,  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  and  the 
picture  of  the  Day  of  Judgment  in  the  Sis- 
tine  chapel,  are  the  three  great  pillars  of  Mi- 
chael Angela's  fame.  Its  attitude  of  majes- 
tick  repose,  the  expressive  form  of  its  mouth, 
the  full  and  waving  beard  that  falls  down  to 
its  girdle,  are  characteristicks  of  that  grand  style, 
which  Michael  Angela  introduced  into  paint- 
ing,; statuary  and  architecture.  Indeed  the  whole 
composition  of  this  statue  is  worthy  of  him 
alone,  to  whose  genius  Italy  is  indebted  for 
the  sublimest  edifice  on  earth,  and  the  no- 
blest  style  of  painting. 

Within  the  church  of  St.  Sebastian  is  the 
entrance  to  the  cemetary  of  Caiixtus  or  the 
catacombs.  This  suite  of  subterranean  apart- 
ments is  fitted  to  inspire  the  visitor  with  hor- 
rour.  The  multitude  of  narrow  and  perplexed 
passages  he  encounters,  and  the  silence  that 
reigns  over  these  mansions  of  the  dead,  but 
above  all  the  idea  that  these  gloomy  and  cheer- 
less caverns  afforded,  in  the  early  periods  of 
Christianity,  an  asylum  from  persecution,  and 
that  it  was  amidst  their  pestilential  vapours  and 


307 


unwholesome  damps  the  early  christians  cele- 
brated the  rites  of  their  religion,  diffuses  over  the 
mind  that  species  of  pleasure  shaded  with  hor- 
rour  and  melancholy,  which,  when  it  does  not 
press  too  powerfully,  gives  rise  to  no  unpleas- 
ing  sensation. 

Few  churches  enjoy  a  prospect  more  beau- 
tiful and  extensive  than  that  which  is  seen  from 
the  eminence  on  which  stands  St.  Pietro  dl 
Montorio.  It  is  sufficient  in  praise  of  this 
church  to  say,  that  Raphael  painted  for  it  the 
transfiguration,  and  that  the  paintings  which 
adorn  one  of  its  chapels,  were  executed  after 
the  designs  of  Michael  Angelo.  The  master- 
piece of  Raphael  which  was  suspended  over 
the  great  altar,  has  long  formed  one  of  the  chief 
ornaments  in  the  musee  imperiale  of  Paris.  Its 
arrival  at  the  gates  of  Rome,  was  hailed  with  a 
lively  enthusiasm.  The  possession  of  Raphael's 
most  esteemed  production  excited  more  vivid 
emotions  in  this  people  than  the  liberation  of 
their  city  from  the  despotism  of  France.  The 
political  greatness  of  Rome  exists  no  more.  No 
longer  ambitious  of  governing  the  world,  she 
is  content  to  dictate  to  it  the  laws  of  taste  ;  yet 
jealous  of  that  glory  which  her  artists  have  ac- 
eraired  for  her,  she  cherishes  as  sacred  every 


308 

memorial  of  their  fame.  In  the  eourt  formed 
by  the  convent  and  the  church,  stands  a 
beautiful  little  temple  of  the  Dorick  order, 
remarkable  for  its  being  a  happy  imitation  of 
the  antique.  Its  form  is  circular,  and  its  en- 
tablature and  domes  are  supported  by  sixteen 
columns  of  dark  granite.  Bramante  was  the 
architect.  It  is  said  to  be  erected  upon  the 
very  spot,  were  St.  Peter  received  from  hea- 
ven the  palm  of  martyrdom. 

The  beautiful  remains  of  the  temple  of 
Vesta,  that  stand  near  the  borders  of  the  Tiber, 
have  been  converted  into  the  church  of  Madon- 
na del  Sole.  The  Corinthian  columns  of  Parian 
marble  forming  a  circular  portico,  divested 
of  their  entablature,  and  the  unsightly  roof 
they  support,  shew  that  the  artist  was  totally 
devoid  of  taste,  under  whose  direction  it 
was  repaired.  Mr.  Eustace,  who  saw  it  when 
the  bases  and  part  of  the  shafts  of  its  co- 
lumns were  buried  in  the  earth,  conjectures 
that  the  frieze  and  cornice  of  the  entablature, 
lay  concealed  beneath  this  mass  of  rubbish, 
which  once  probably  formed  part  of  the  build- 
ing. The  late  French  government  has  caused 
this  earth  to  be  removed,  and  the  lower  part 
of  the  colonnade  now  stands  uncovered,  but 


309 


I  did  not  learn  that  any  of  the  ornaments  of 
the  entablature  had  been  discovered.  The 
most  probable  idea  is,  that  as  they  must  have 
been  of  extraordinary  beauty,  they  were  car- 
ried off  to   enrich   other   buildings. 

Not  far  distant,  stands  the  ruins  of  the  tem- 
ple of  For  tuna  Virilis,  erected  by  Servius  Tul- 
lius,  who  from  an  obscure  station  rose  to  the 
dignity  of  king — now  the  church  of  Santa 
Maria  Egiziaca. 

The  superb  ruins  of  the  temple  of  Anto- 
ninus and  Faustina  in  the  Forum  Romanum, 
are  now  dedicated  to  a  saint  under  the  name 
of  the  church  of  St.  Lorenzo  in  Miranda. 
The  remains  of  it  are  an  extensive  Corinthian 
portico,  composed  of  columns  of  one  entire 
piece  of  that  marble,  anciently  called  lapis 
caristius.  These  columns  are  surmounted  by 
an  immense  entablature,  the  frieze  of  which 
js  richly  decorated.  This  temple,  which  the 
senate  ordered  to  be  built  in  the  Via  sacra, 
and  to  be  consecrated  to  the  memory  of  Anto- 
ninus Pius  and  his  wife  Faustina,  is  still  a 
conspicuous  object,  even  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  Coliseum,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  aston- 
ishing scene  of  ruined  grandeur,  which  sur- 
rounds it. 


310 

The  church  of  St.  Clement  is  a  very  ancient 
edifice,  and  in  its  interiour  arrangement,  re- 
sembles  the  models  of  the  ancient  Basilica. 
As  it  is  as  old  as  the  fourth  century,  it  was 
probably  constructed  upon  the  plan  of  the 
Basilica;,  many  of  which  after  the  Roman  em- 
pire embraced  Christianity,  were  converted  in- 
to the  church.  From  it  we  may  learn  after 
what  pattern  the  earliest  churches  were  built,  a 
pattern  which  seems  at  least  in  Italy,  to  have 
been  closely  followed  ever  since.  The  place 
allotted  for  the  tribune,  and  the  marble  seat  of 
the  clergy.  The  insulated  position  of  the 
great  altar — the  space  occupied  by  the  chan- 
cel— and  the  two  marble  pulpits  on  each  side 
anciently  denominated  ambones,  from  which 
the  sacred  volume  used  to  be  read  and  ex- 
pounded, are  genuine  marks  of  high  antiquity. 

The  church  of  St.  Onofrio  is  enobled  by 
the  circumstances  of  its  containing  the  tomb  of 
Tasso.  A  simple  latin  inscription  designates  the 
spot  where  this  illustrious  poet  lies  buried. 
We  are  naturally  led  to  inquire,  why  the  fa- 
vourite poet  of  Italy  has  not  been  honoured  with 
a  more  splendid  memorial  of  publick  affec- 
tion. Alternately  the  object  of  the  caresses 
and  hatred  of  a  prince,  after  a  series  of  mis- 


311 


fortunes  he  died  in  the  convent  of  St.  Onq/rio, 
the  night  preceding  the  day  fixed  for  his  coro- 
nation in  the  capitol.  Even  in  the  grave  mis- 
fortune  seemed  to  pursue  him.  For  a  long 
time  his  remains  lay  undistinguished  among 
the  vulgar  dead,  and  before  the  monument 
was  commenced  which  the  cardinal  Cinthio  Al- 
dobrandini  had  determined  to  erect  to  his  me- 
mory, his  illustrious  patron  himself  was  sum- 
moned to  the  tomb.  Death  by  wresting  from 
him  first  a  crown  and  then  a  monument,  rob- 
bed him  each  time  of  a  distinction  which 
might  have  been  coveted  by  any  poet  possess. 
ed  of  less  renown  than  Tasso. 

A  traveller  of  the  least  pretensions  to  taste, 
would  be  inexcusable,  who  in  an  enumeration 
of  the  antiquities  of  Rome,  should  overlook 
the  church  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  St.  Ce- 
cilia. Her  genius  has  been  deified  by  the  pen 
of  Dryden,  and  her  beauty  immortalized  by  the 
pencil  of  Raphael.  Connected  with  the  church 
is  the  apartment,  in  which  St.  Cecilia  suffered 
martyrdom.  The  theatre  of  this  pathetick 
tragedy,  is  now  decorated  with  landscapes  by 
Paul  Brill.  The  great  altar  is  adorned  with 
a  canopy  supported  by  four  columns  of  black 
and  white  marble.     Upon  it  reposes  the  figure 


312 


of  St.  Cecilia  in  the  embraces  of  death.  A 
light  thin  drapery  is  thrown  over  the  body,  and 
through  this  delicate  veil  the  contours  of  the 
countenance  are  visible.  This  beautiful  piece 
of  sculpture  is  by  Stephen  Maderno. 

Upon  the  ground  supposed  to  have  been  oc- 
cupied formerly  bv  the  mansion  of  Gregory 
the  great,  a  church  was  erected  to  his  memory. 
It  was  subsequently  embellished  and  enlarged 
by  Cardinal  Scipio  Borghese,  and  finally  rebuilt 
after  the  plans  of  Francis  Ferrari.  From  the 
terrace  adjoining  this  church,  is  seen  the  palace 
of  the  Caesars.  This  superb  group  of  ruins 
trellised  with  ivy  and  wild  flowers,  gives  to  the 
neighbouring  landscape,  a  beautiful  and  pic- 
turesque effect.  On  this  terrace  are  three  cha- 
pels. The  first  which  is  dedicated  to  St.  An- 
drew, contains  two  paintings  in  fresco  of  extra- 
ordinary beauty.  The  subject  of  the  first  by 
Domimchino,  is  the  flagellation  of  St.  Andrew 
the  second  by  Guido,  he  presents  the  same 
Saint  going  to  execution. 

Having  endeavoured  to  convey,  by  means  oi 
a  faint  outline,  an  idea  of  some  of  the  principal 
churches  which  belong  to  the  secondary .  or- 
der, I  shall  now  attempt  a  description  of  those 


313 


tp  which  the  epithet  Patriarchal  is  applied. 
I  shall  begin  with  the  Basilica  Liberiansis^  or 
as  it  is  commonly  called,  the  church  of  San- 
ta Maria  Majore.  It  is  situated  upon  the  Es- 
quiline  mount,  and  has  two  facades,  before  each 
of  which  is  a  large  open  space,  adorned  the 
one  with  an  obelisk,  the  other  with  a  column 
supporting  the  statue  of  the  Virgin.  The  prin- 
cipal facade  was  added  to  the  church,  in  the 
pontificate  of  Benedict  the  fourteenth.  It 
consists  of  an  upper  and  lower  row  of  columns 
of  two  different  orders,  the  first  being  the 
Ionick,  the  second  Corinthian.  The  architec- 
ture of  the  other  facade  does  honour  to  the 
taste  of  the  Chevalier  Rainaldi,  under  whose 
direction  it  was  executed  by  order  of  Cle- 
ment the  tenth.  Its  pilasters  and  statues  are 
gracefully  disposed,  and  its  two  domes  throw 
over  the  whole  composition  an  air  of  unusual 
magnificence. 

Nor  does  the  interiour  of  this  church  dis- 
appoint the  expectations  raised  by  its  splen- 
did exteriour.  The  effect  of  its  long  colon- 
nades of  white  marble,  fills  every  beholder 
with  admiration.  The  altar  consists  of  a  large 
antique  urn  of  red  porphyry,  covered  by  a 
targe  marble  slab,  and  supported  at  the  corners 
41 


314 

by  four  angels.  The  canopy,  which  covers 
this  altar,  although  a  little  too  elevated  for  the 
place  it  occupies,  is  a  magnificent  piece  of 
art.  Its  statuary,  its  porphyry  columns  and 
bronze  ornaments,  would  justify  the  loftiest 
encomiums.  Upon  the  left,  is  that  sumptuous 
chapel  erected  by  Paul  the  fifth,  of  the  house 
of  Borghese.  The  prodigal  display  here  of 
jasper  and  lapis  lazuli,  calls  to  mind  the  splen- 
did mausoleum  of  the  Medici  family  at  Flo- 
rence. These  rioh  materials,  though  employ- 
ed with  lavish  embellishment,  are  not  arrang- 
ed according  to  the  best  taste.  Had  they 
been  more  sparingly  used,  although  they  would 
have  dazzled  less,  their  pleasing  effect  would 
have  been  greater. 

To  embellish  with  indiscriminate  profu- 
sion, is  never  the  mark  of  a  correct  or  deli- 
cate taste.  To  make  any  object  fine,  and  to 
make  it  beautiful,  are  two  different  things.  The 
first  requires  no  genius,  no  powers  of  combi- 
nation, no  mental  resources  of  any  description, 
While  the  latter  is  exclusively  the  prerogative 
of  powerful  and  cultivated  talents.  Such  are 
the  reflections  naturally  suggested,  by  the 
ostentatious  magnificence  of  the  Borghese  cha- 


315 


pet  Although  embellished  with  the  pencil  of 
Guido,  and  by  the  talents  of  the  first  statuaries 
of  the  age,  a  refined  taste  is  offended  at  its  me- 
retricious brilliancy,  which,  no  doubt  was  in- 
tended to  eclipse  the  pretensions  of  all  its  rivals. 
There  are  a  few  of  the  most  prominent  features 
of  Santa  Maria  Majore,  than  which  it  would  be 
difficult  to  imagine  any  thing  more  beautiful  or 
magnificent  to  one  who  had  not  seen  the  match- 
less grandeur  of  the  Vatican. 

In  the  church  of  St.  John  of  Lateran,  is 
the  Cersini  chapel.  It  is  less  rich,  but  at  the 
same  time  less  gaudy,  than  that  of  the  Bor- 
ghese  family  at  Santa  Maria  Majore.  Orna- 
ment is  here  distributed  with  a  more  sparing 
hand,  and  the  charm  of  symmetry  and  grace 
is  not  sacrificed  to  the  glare  of ..  misplaced 
finery.  Its  walls  glitter  with  spaklirg  incrus- 
tations of  jasper  and  oriental  alabaster ;  but 
the  tasteful  disposition  of  the  tombs,  the 
statuary,  the  bas  reliefs  and  its  ornamental 
pillars  of  porphyry,  and  vert  antique,  res- 
cue it  from  the  censure,  which  I  have  ven- 
tured to  pass  on  the  Borghese  chapel.  Over 
the  altar  is  the  portrait  of  Andrew  Corsini,  in 
mosaick,  from  an  original  by  Guido.  The 
furniture    of  this   chapel,    though  remarkable 


316 


for  its  costliness,  has  a  beauty  of  a  higher 
order  arising  from  the  happy  simplicity,  with 
which  it  is  disposed.  The  whole  is  cover- 
ed by  a  graceful  dome,  from  whose  gilded 
pannels,  a  soft  light  descending  upon  its  mar- 
ble pavement,  lights  up  the  splendid  exhi- 
bition of  art  beneath,  with  an  additional 
brilliancy.  In  this  chapel  is  an  antique  sar- 
cophagus of  porphyry  of  an  elegant  form, 
commonly  called  the  urn  of  Marcus  Agrippa7 
in  which  now  reposes  the  body  of  Clement; 
the  twelfth. 

Close  to  St.  John  of  Lateran  is  an  edifice 
erected  by  Sixtus  Quintus,  in  which  is  seen 
a  staircase,  which  according  to  tradition,  is 
the  same  that  led  to  the  judgment  sent 
of  Pilate.  St.  Helena,  mother  of  Constan- 
tine  the  great,  sent  it  from  Jerusalem  to  Rome 
with  other  relicks  consecrated  by  the  pas- 
sion. These  precious  memorials  are  deposit- 
ed in  a  chapel,  which  in  order  to  secure  more 
effectually  from  the  intrusions  of  sacrilege, 
bears  the   appellation  of    Sancta   Sanctorum. 

Advancing  from  St.  John  of  Lateran  by 
a  road  bordered  with  trees,,  towards  the  Por- 
ta Majore,   you  arrive  at  the  church  of  Santa 


317 


Croce  in  Gerusaiemme,  an  old  basilica  built 
on  the  ruins  of  the  temple  of  Venus  and 
Cupid.  I\  was  erected  by  Constantine  at  the 
request  of  St.  Helena,  who  caused  to  be  de- 
posited therein,  some  of  the  fragments  of 
the  holy  cross.  The  roses  and  myrtles  of 
the  Paphian  goddess  have  faded,  and  the  dark 
verdure  of  the  ivy  marks  the  vestiges  of  her 
once  brilliant  temple.  A  convent  stands  amidst 
its  ruins,  and  the  residence  of  the  loves  and 
the  graces,  has  become  the  abode  of  penitence 
and  prayer. 

Leaving  on  your  right  the  tomb  of  Caius 
Cestius,  and  passing  through  one  of  the  gates* 
of  the  ancient  city,  you  arrive  at  the  Basilica 
of  St.  Paolo  fuori  delle  Mura.  This  edifice 
over  which  so  many  centuries  have  rolled,  and 
on  which  time  has  left  such  deep  and  power- 
ful traces  of  his  foot-steps,  awakens  a  train  of 
sublime  ideas.  The  ground  it  stands  upon 
was  a  farm  belonging  to  Lucina,  a  Roman  ma- 
tron within  whose  limits  an  ancient  sepulchre 
existed,  in  which  was  deposited  the  body  of 
the  Apostle  from  whom  it  derives  its  name.  It 
was  enlarged  in  three  hundred  and  eighty- 
six,   by  the  emperour  Theodosius,  and  finish- 

*  Porta  di  St.  raofo,  formerly,  Forta  QstknsiS: 


318 


ed  in  the  time  of  his  successor  Honorius,  and 
shortly  after  felt  some  of  the  effects  of  the  rude 
commotions  of  that  prince's  reign.  The  faded 
mosaick  decorations  of  its  facade — its  antique 
portico,  and  the  bronze  portal  in  the  centre, 
— cast  over  its  exteriour,  the  dim  splendours  of 
antiquity.  Its  interiour,  though  not  equal  in 
extent  to  St.  Peters,  by  means  of  some 
alterations,  might  be  made  to  vie  with  it  in 
magnificence.  It  is  divided  into  five  aisles 
by  Corintian  columns,  twenty-four  of  which 
it  is  said  formerly  adorned  the  moles  Hadriani, 
or  tomb  of  Adrian.  They  are  of  one  solid 
piece  of  marble  beautifully  marked  with  purple 
veins,  and  fluted  for  the  length  of  one  third  of 
the  shaft,  they  are  thirty-six  feet  high,  and 
eleven  in  circumference,  the  remaining  fifty- six 
are  of  Greek  and  Parian  marble.  The  walls 
of  the  great  aisle  are  bordered  immediately  un- 
der the  ceiling  by  a  series  of  portraits  of  the 
popes,  from  St.  Peter  to  his  present  successor. 
The  whole  together  amounting  to  the  number 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty- three.  In  the  centre 
of  the  transept  of  the  church,  is  a  rich  cano- 
py pointed  at  the  top  like  a  pyramid  support- 
ed by  four  beautiful  columns  of  porphyry, 
and  overshadowing  the  altar  under  which  re- 
poses the  body  of  the  Apostle. 


319 


It  was  evening  when  I  visited  St.  Paul's,  and 
the  fading  twilight  gave  a  more  than  usual  solem- 
nity to  the  scene  around  me.  My  view  became 
fixed  upon  the  spoils  of  Adrian's  mausoleum. 
I  could  not  help  musing  upon  the  insensibility 
and  barbarism  of  the  age  which  could  suffer 
this  magnificent  structure,  to  be  despoiled  of 
of  its  beauty.  Belisarius  converted  it  into  a 
fortress  against  the  Goths,  and  stripped  it  of  its 
embellishments  to  hurl  them  upon  the  enemy. 
Yet  here  an  Emperour  hoped  to  repose  in  quie- 
tude after  death.  Vain  hope  !  Its  beauty  serv- 
ed to  invite  the  hand  of  rapacity,  and  its  strength 
made  it  a  conspicuous  theatre  of  war.  If  the 
curtain  of  futurity  had  been  drawn  aside,  and  if 
the  fate  of  his  favourite  monument  had  been  re- 
vealed to  Adrian  before  his  death,  how  would 
it  have  grieved  him  to  behold  the  soldiers  of 
Belisarius  casting  upon  the  heads  of  the  be- 
siegers, the  statues  that  adorned  its  walls.  He 
would  have  wept  over  the  uncertainty  of  hu- 
man greatness,  in  beholding  the  ruins  of  a  mo- 
nument, which  promised  to  be  as  durable  as  the 
flow  of  the  Tyber. 

Before  me,  wrapped  in  the  shades  of  the 
evening,  stood  the  tomb  of  the  Apostle  who 
taught  the  resurrection  of  the  body.     A  doc- 


320 

trine  how  animating  in  life,  how  consolatory  in 
death  ! 

The  ancients  endeavoured  to  render  the  idea 
of  death  supportable,  by  decorating  the  tomb 
with  the  splendours  of  art.  In  the  opinion  even 
of  the  greatest  philosophers  and  most  virtuous 
men  of  antiquity,  futurity  was  a  mystery,  which 
the  utmost  strength  of  human  reason  was 
wholly  unable  to  explain.  Hence,  in  the  em- 
bellishment of  their  sepulchral  monuments, 
they  often  display  a  taste  bordering  on  epi- 
curism, and  concealed  the  ashes  of  the  dead 
in  urns  decorated  with  images  of  gaiety  and 
voluptuousness.  But  from  the  moment  the 
apostle  of  the  gentiles,  opened  the  gates  of 
eternal  life,  and  a  ray  of  divine  hope  illumina- 
ted the  mansions  of  the  dead,  the  pyramid 
buiit  for  eternal duration,  mausoleums  on  which 
the  revenues  of  kingdoms  were  lavished,  no 
longer  continued  to  be  objects  of  princely  airir 
bition. 

From  this  fit  of  musing,  I  was  roused  by 
the  footsteps  of  my  guide,  echoing  along  the 
.aisles  of  the  church.  The  religious  impres- 
sions with  which  I  quitted  St.  Paul's,  con- 
vinced me  how  much  our  purest  and  best  affec- 
tions,    are   strengthened   by   the   presence   of 


321 


objects,    to  which  history  and  tradition  have 
communicated  a  sacred  charm. 

In  going  to  visit  St.  Peter's,  I  crossed  the 
Tyber  on  the  Ponte  St.  Angelo.     The  figures 
and  attitudes  of  the  marble  statues,  that  adorn 
this  bridge,    are   beautiful  and  noble.       The 
castle   of  St.    Angelo,    at  its  extremity,    was 
the  tomb  of  Hadrian,  and  the   statues  and  co- 
lumns which  formerly  embellished  it,  were  of 
the  finest  materials  and  most  exquisite  work- 
manship.     It  was   converted   into   a   fortress 
against  the  Goths,    and,    during  the  fury   of 
"hostilities,     its  sculpture  and  ornaments   fur- 
nished the  besieged  with  arms  against  the  inva- 
ders.    It  has,    since,    occasionally  afforded  the 
popes  a  secure  retreat  in  times  of  danger.     At 
the  end  of  the  street  on  the  left  of  the  bridge, 
the  church  of  St.  Peter  opened  in  all  its  mag- 
nificence.    The  sun   of   Italy   illuminated   its 
facade^    and   nature  seemed   pleased   to   shed 
upon  this  noblest  work  of  man,  the  full  efful- 
gence of   her   brightest   luminary.     The   two 
great  fountains,    that   murmur   perpetually  in 
the    piazza,     and     from   which   the    water  is 
discharged  in  so  gaseous  a  form,   that   it  mixes 
with  the  atmosphere,  were  encircled  with  rain- 
bows.    Before  it  an  obelisk  rose  an  hundred 
42 


322 


and  thirty  feet  in  height,  and  the  colonnade, 
on  each  hand  which  encloses  the  piazza, 
was  an  object  as  beautiful,  as  that  to  which 
it  lead,  was  grand  and  imposing.  I  ascend- 
ed the  vast  steps  before  the  church,  and  en- 
tered its  vestibule.  The  cicerone  drew  aside 
for  me  the  curtain  that  covers  the  door,  and  I 
passed  into  the  interiour  of  the  church.  I 
cannot  well  describe  the  emotions  of  awe  and 
delight  I  felt,  at  the  entrance  of  this  glorious 
temple.  It  expelled  every  ignoble  passion  from 
the  breast,  and  like  the  starry  expanse,  or  the 
boundless  ocean,  inspired  the  purest  and  high- 
est sentiment  of  the  sublime.  It  is  some- 
time before  these  impressions  are  worn  oft' 
the  mind  of  the  visitor,  to  leave  it  in  a  state 
sufficiently  dispassionate,  to  examine  its  beau- 
ties in  detail.  After  he  has  surveyed  the 
majesty  and  proportions  of  the  wonderful 
dome,  suspended  four  hundred  feet  above  his 
head,  after  he  is  satisfied  with  contemplating 
the  matchless  splendour  of  the  great  altar  be- 
neath it,  he  may  then  proceed  to  examine, 
in  succession,  its  paintings  and  tombs. 

The   interiour   of  St.  Peter's   is  one  of  the 
most  sublime  and  brilliant  exhibitions  of  art 


323 


that  ever  was  presented  to  the  senses.  Archi- 
tecture, painting  and  sculpture,  here  contend 
for  the  superiority;  and  their  rival  masterpieces 
are  brought  into  close  comparison.  Its  pic- 
tures are  copies  in  mosaick,  but  the  result  of 
so  much  labour  and  patience,  that  the  most  cri- 
tical eye  is  puzzled  to  discover  the  slightest  de- 
viation from  the  sublime  originals  themselves. 
One  of  them  is  a  copy  of  the  communion  of  St. 
Jerome  by  Domiriichino.  St.  Jerome,  near  the 
point  of  death,  is  making  an  effort  almost  be- 
yond the  strength  of  his  infirm  and  emaciated 
frame,  to  receive  the  last  sacrament.  His  gar- 
ment is  thrown  aside,  and  exposes  to  view  the 
withered  and  shrunken  form  of  the  old  man. 
How  terrible  is  this  portrait  of  man  divested  by 
time  of  his  bodily  powers !  Dimned  by  a 
veil  of  years,  the  soul  of  St.  Jerome  languish- 
es for  a  better  existence,  and  his  faded  eye 
implores  the  comforts  of  religion.  A  lively  sym- 
pathy is  painted  on  the  countenances  of  the 
surrounding  group,  and  the  eyes  of  the  lion, 
couched  near  St.  Jerome,  appear  to  swim  in 
tears* 

Over  an  altar  on  the  same  side  of  the  church., 
is  St.  Michael  subduing  the  dragon,  by 
Guhlo    Rheni.     The  grace  and  youth  of  the 


324 


arch-angel  and  the  tranquillity  of  his  divine 
countenance,  form  a  sudden  and  striking  con- 
trast to  the  ferocious  aspect, — muscular  form 
and  gigantick  stature  of  his  adversary.  His 
outsprea4  wings  adorned  with  celestial  plumage, 
wave  gracefully  upon  his  shoulders  ;  he  tram- 
ples upon  the  prostrate  fiend  and  raises  over 
him  the  sword  of  omnipotence. 

The  Satan  of  the  Roman  painters,  has  none 
of  the  personal  majesty  and  beauty  of  Milton's 
ruined  arch-angel.  They  have  given  to  the 
prince  of  hell  in  their  pictures  a  shape  hideous 
and  disgusting  ;  half  man  and  half  serpent.  His 
body  is  scared  with  lightnings,  and  his  visage 
brutalized  by  a  pair  of  horns.  The  being 
which  Milton  has  imagined  does  not  excite 
emotions  of  pure  disgust.  The  splendour  of 
his  outward  form  is  faded,  but  he  preserves 
some  remains  of  his  supernal  glory.  Mil- 
ton's imagination  was  no  doubt  enriched  by  his 
visit  to  Italy,  and  he  occasionally  discovers  in 
his  Paradise  Lost,  how  much  the  stores  of  his 
invention  were  enlarged  by  his  acquaintance 
with  Italian  literature.  But  the  character  of 
Satan  is  a  creation  of  his  own  genius.  His 
moral  and  intellectual  nature,  and  the  personal 
majesty  with  which  the  poet  has  clothed  his 


b2s 


outward  form,  are  compounded  from  no  ma- 
terials which  he  could  have  borrowed  from 
Dante  or  Tasso. 

The  tomb  of  Clement  the  thirteenth  is  by 
Canova,  and  unquestionably  the  greatest  work 
of  genius  that  adorns  the  interiour  of  St,  Pe- 
ter's. Never  was  the  sentiment  of  devotion 
more  happily  expressed  than  in  the  figure  of 
the  Pope  kneeling  at  the  top  of  this  monument. 
Its  hands  are  gently  raised,  and  closed  at  their 
extremities.  Its  features  are  calm  and  resign- 
ed, and  on  its  lips  which  appear  to  breathe,  sits 
all  the  eloquence  of  prayer.  A  beautiful  wing- 
ed figure  holding  in  its  hand  a  torch  reversed, 
representing  genius,  sits  on  one  side  of  this 
monument  with  a  look  of  profound  grief.  On 
the  other  stands  the  form  of  religion  erect 
and  serene.  The  two  lions  at  its  base  are  mas- 
terpieces of  sculpture.  One  sleeps  while  the 
other  watches.  So  close  is  the  imitation  of 
life  in  the  latter,  that  I  have  heard  some  ladies 
at  Rome  say,  they  were  so  overpowered  by 
the  terrour  its  look  inspires  as  to  hesitate  to  ap- 
proach it.  The  repose  of  the  other  is  as  hap- 
pily imagined.  This  form  of  fierceness  and 
strength  in  a  state  of  quietude  and  rest,  sug- 
gest feelings  analogous  to  those  inspired  by  the 


326 


calm  of  the  ocean,  or  the  portrait  of  the  slum- 
bers of  the  eagle  in  Gray's  ode  : — 

Quench'd  in  dark  clouds  of  slumber  lie, 

The  terrours  of  his  beak,  and  light'nings  of  his  eye. 

A  plain  urn  of  stucco,  is  all  that  here  com- 
memorates the  much  lamented  name  of  Bras- 
chu  But  I  remembered  the  monument  erect- 
ed in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  him,  by  his 
piety,  his  virtues  and  his  sufferings,  and  the 
imperishable  honours  with  which  the  pen  of 
Burke  has  decorated  it. 

The  Vatican  which  adjoins  St.  Peter's,  in- 
dependent of  the  treasures  which  enrich  its 
interiour,  possesses  within  itself,  all  that  can 
render  it  a  desirable  retreat  to  the  enthusiast 
and  even  voluptuary.  From  the  windows  of  the 
gallery  of  the  Belvidere  is  seen  one  of  the  most 
extensive  and  picturesque  views  of  Rome.  The 
eye  after  pursuing  the  windings  of  the  Tyber, 
and  dwelling  with  a  severe  pleasure  upon  som- 
bre ruins,  which  like  the  colossal  shades  that 
fancy  conjures  up  at  midnight,  bear  in  their 
dark  and  faded  aspect,  memorials  of  their  pris- 
tine grandeur,  beyond,  in  the  environs  of  the 
city  reposes  on  the  scenes  of  villa  Borghese  and 


327 


villa  Medici.  Fountains  murmur  in  the  ad- 
joining court,  and  the  breath  of  oranges  and  jes- 
samines impregnate  the  air  that  plays  along  its 
porticoes  and  galleries.  The  deep  silence  which 
generally  reigns  over  almost  every  portion  of 
this  vast  edifice,  diffuses  throughout  a  myste- 
rious solitude,  and  almost  makes  the  visitor  be- 
lieve he  is  surveying  one  of  those  magical  pa- 
laces described  in  the  tales  of  eastern  enchant- 
ment. 

Yet  I  would  not  be  understood  to  praise 
the  architecture  of  the  Vatican,  as  regular 
and  unexceptionable.  In  so  vast  a  pile,  ex- 
tended and  improved  at  different  periods,  by 
a  succession  of  architects,  Bramante,  Raphael, 
Maderno  and  Bernini,  there  must  exist  that 
incongruity,  which  necessarily  would  arise  out 
of  the  diversity  of  the  taste  and  talents,  of 
these  different  artists.  Yet,  however  defec- 
tive it  may  be  in  detail,  the  whole  together 
is  majestick  and  imposing. 

A  superb  Ionick  staircase  fscala  regiaj  leads 
to  the  apartments  and  saloons  of  the  Vatican, 
The  sala  regia,  a  vast  audience  chamber, 
communicates  with  the  Pauline  and  Sistine  cha- 
pels, the  principal  ornaments  of  which  are 
the  pictures  of  Michael  Angelo  and  Ijis  scho- 


328 


lars,  Next  in  order  are  the  Loggie  of  Raphael, 
which  open  upon  the  court  of  St.  Damasus. 
The  galleries  containing  the  inimitable  per- 
formances of  Raphael,  which  were  fomerly 
open  and  exposed  to  the  weather,  are  now 
protected  from  the  changes  of  the  atmos- 
phere, by  immense  shutters  of  glass.  This 
great  improvement,  the  Vatican  is  said  to 
owe  to  the  munificence  of  M urat,  late  king 
of   Naples. 

These  paintings  have  been  so  often  described, 
that  it  is  now  difficult,  perhaps  impossible  to 
make  any  remarks  on  them,  that  will  not  be 
destitute  of  the  attractions  of  novelty.  Yet,  if 
I  may  be  permitted  to  judge  from  what  I 
myself  have  felt,  there  are  few  persons,  who 
have  complained  of  disappointment,  the  first 
time  they  beheld  the  matchless  compositions 
of  Raphael,  which  have  been  the  subject  of 
so  many  warm  and  rapturous  eulogiums.  But, 
as  it  is  generally  admitted,  that  Michael  Ange- 
lo  Buonarotti  is  the  author  of  that  purity  of 
design,  and  of  that  noble  and  chaste  simpli- 
city, which  characterizes  the  masters  of  the 
Roman  school  of  painting,  I  shall  notice, 
first  his  picture   of  the  day   of  judgment  in 


329 


the  Sixtine  chapel,  which  is  generally  esteem- 
ed his  masterpiece.  The  slight  attention  which 
Michael  Angelo  appears  to  have  paid  to  aerial 
perspective  in  this  piece,  and  the  manner  in 
which  the  different  groups  are  distributed, 
in  my  opinion,  render  it  much  inferiour  in 
point  of  effect,  to  a  painting  of  the  same  sub- 
ject by  Tintoretto <,  in  the  great  council  cham- 
ber at  Venice.  The  happy  distribution  of 
light  and  shade,  an  excellence  justly  claimed 
by  the  painters  of  the  Venetian  school,  is 
peculiarly  well  adapted  to  paintings  of  this 
nature,  where  the  eye  takes  in,  at  one  view, 
too  great  a  multitude  of  objects,  to  attend 
to  the  particular  expression  of  the  passions 
and  knowledge  of  design,  that  may  be  dis- 
played in  the  execution  of  each  individual 
figure.  But,  when  the  style  of  the  Venetian 
masters,  with  all  its  puerile  embellishments 
and  insignificant  details,  is  compared  with  that 
chaste  and  majestick  simplicity,  and  with  that 
bold  and  divine  expression,  that  Michael 
Angelo  taught  his  scholars  to  transfuse  into 
the  human  figure  and  countenance,  how  low 
does  it  sink  in  the  scale  of  excellence  ! 

The  outline   of    this  celebrated   picture  is 
this.     Michael  Angelo  has  endeavoured  to  seize 

43 


330 


and  fix  with  his  daring  pencil,  that  awful  mo- 
ment in  the  scene  of  the  judgment  day,  which 
has  an  air  of  such  tremendous  grandeur,  in 
the  simple  and  unaffected  eloquence  of  the 
apostle.  The  judge  of  the  universe  has  pro- 
nounced the  benediction,  upon  the  souls  re- 
ceived into  Paradise,  who  appear  seated  on 
his  right,  and  in  an  attitude  in  which  anger 
is  tempered  with  a  celestial  majesty,  is  pas- 
sing upon  the  wicked  his  final  and  irrevocable 
decree,  "  depart  from  me,  ye  accused,  into 
everlasting  fire." 

It  does  not  require  a  very  nice  and  criti- 
cal eye,  to  detect  great  blemishes  in  this  com- 
position, upon  the  merits  of  which  depends 
Michael  Angelo^s  fame  as  a  painter.  But  we 
must  not  judge  it,  by  comparing  it  with  perfor- 
mances of  a  later  date,  but  take  into  consi- 
deration the  state  of  the  art,  at  the  period  it 
was  executed,  which  will  enable  us  to  deter- 
mine impartially,  how  far  this  artist  outstrip- 
ped all  his  predecessors,  and  to  what  extent 
posterity  is  indebted  to  him.  A  severe  critick 
undoubtedly  finds  much  to  blame  in  the  incon- 
gruous mixture  of  a  heathen  divinity,  with  the 
solemnities  of  an  event  for  the  knowledge  which 
we  are  indebted  to  christian  revelation.  Charon 
and   the   Styx  are  introduced  into   this  piece. 


331 


which  mar  its  sublimity  no  less  than  the  disgust- 
ing portrait  of  the  Cardinal  to  whom  Michael 
Angelo  gave  immortality  for  his  having  dared  to 
remark  what  he  thought  indecencies  in  the  pic- 
ture. But  these  are  irregularities  or  capricios 
of  a  profound  and  daring  mind,  and  if  the  ad- 
mirers of  the  father  of  Italian  poetry,  find  in 
that  depth  of  feeling  and  gloomy  grandeur  with 
which  he  paints  the  human  character,  an  apolo- 
gy for  all  the  wild  visions  and  bold  incongruities 
of  the  inferno,  may  we  not  with  equal  rea- 
son put  into  the  scale  of  justice,  against  the 
faults  of  this  picture,  that  sublimity  of  thought 
for  which  Michael  Angelo  is  indebted,  to  his 
having  like  Dante,  ventured  beyond  the  bar- 
riers of  space  and  time  into  unexplored  regions 
of  existence. 

I  shall  now  make  some  observations  on  the 
works  of  Raphael,  for  the  success  of  whose  ta- 
lent the  last  mentioned  artist,  is  said  to  have  felt 
all  the  jealousy  of  rivalship.  Raphael  has  with 
some  propriety  been  styled  the  Virgil  of  pain- 
ters in  contradistinction  to  Michael  Angelo, 
who  appears  to  have  possessed  an  impetuosity 
of  genius  and  an  overwhelming  sublimity  of 
thought,  similar  to  what  has  been  ascribed  to 
the  author  of  the  Iliad. 


332 


The  imagination  makes  a  delightful  transi- 
tion from  the  paintings  of  the  Sixtine  and  Pauline 
chapels  to  the  Loggie  and  Camere  of  Raphael, 
from  countenances  distorted  with  pain  or  con- 
vulsed with  horrour,  to  features  glowing  with  the 
expression  of  celestial  love — from  gigantick  and 
terrifick  forms,— to  figures  of  angelick  grace. 
The  vertical  position  and  size  of  the  pictures  of 
the  loggie  render  it  difficult  for  a  spectator  the  first 
time  he  sees  them,  to  consider  them  with  that 
minute  attention  they  deserve.  They  reveal 
new  beauties  every  time  they  are  examined,  and 
while  the  productions  of  other  artists  borrow 
from  fashion  or  some  other  accidental  cause  a 
short  lived  glory,  the  performances  of  Ra- 
phael enjoy  the  possession  of  those  unfading 
charms,  which  entide  their  author  to  that  crown 
of  immortality,  for  the  pursuit  of  which,  he  relin- 
quished the  more  dazzling  but  less  noble  ob- 
jects of  his  art.  This  series  of  paintings  in 
my  opinion,  forms  the  noblest  and  most  inte- 
resting comment  on  the  history  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament. The  events  of  the  inspired  volume 
here  rise  up  to  view,  adorned  with  all  those 
lively  and  picturesque  circumstances  which  are 
suggested  to  the  imagination  by  that  unaffected 
simplicity  which  gives  such  an  air  of  dignity 
and  truth,  to  the  compositions   of  the  divine 


historian.  The  embellishments  with  which 
the  imagination  of  Milton  has  enriched  the  ma- 
terials of  sacred  tradition,  bear  so  close  a  re- 
semblance to  the  colouring  and  imagery,  with 
which  the  invention  of  Raphael  has  decorated 
the  same  subject,  that  I  cannot  help  repeating 
here  a  former  remark,  how  creative  the  pen- 
cil becomes  in  the  hands  of  a  great  artist,  and 
how  nearly  painting  then  succeeds  in  rivalling 
the  loftiest  flights  of  poetical  genius. 

The  museum  Pio-  Clemctitimim,  is  so  called 
from  its  founder  Clement  the  sixteenth,  and 
from  the  cirumstance  of  its  being  further  aug- 
mented and  enriched  by  the  late  pope  Pius 
sixth.  An  immense  gallery  lined  on  each  side 
with  statues,  ancient  sarcophagi  and  inscrip- 
tions, leads  to  a  court,  a  hundred  feet  square, 
cooled  with  fountains  and  perfumed  with 
orange-trees.  Within  the  portico  of  this  court 
stand  those  unrivalled  masterpieces,  the  Apol- 
lo, the  Laocoon  and  the  Antinous,  and  I  did 
not  fail  to  gaze  with  renewed  admiration  on 
these  matchless  forms,  which  four  years  before 
I  had  seen  in  the  gallery  of  the  Louvre.  To 
each  one  of  these  great  masterpieces  a  separate 
apartment  is  allotted  worthy  to  enshrine  its  di- 
vine inhabitant,  and    where    it  now  reposes  in 


534 


solitary  beauty.  These  chambers  open  upoa 
a  court  along  whose  airy  and  silent  colonnades, 
the  breeze  waft  the  perfume  of  a  multitude  of 
exotick  flowers,  which  seem  more  readily  to  ex- 
hale their  sweets  in  an  atmosphere  peopled  with 
these  angelick  forms.  The  works  of  Canova 
have  not  been  thought  unworthy  of  a  place 
near  these  unequalled  performances.  Here 
Perseus  stands  holding  in  his  hand  the 
head  of  Medusa,  and  the  divine  face  of  the 
young  hero  like  that  of  the  Apollo,  is  enno- 
bled by  an  expression  of  triumph  as  he  extends 
to  view  the  countenance  of  the  Gorgon.  The 
same  apartment  contains  the  ancient  pugilists. 
Two  figures  in  which  a  great  knowlege  of 
muscular  anatomy  is  displayed,  but  which  are  ill 
calculated  to  give  a  proper  idea  of  Canova's  ge- 
nius. 

The  Sala  degli  animali,  is  a  collection  of  fi- 
gures which  merits  the  attention  of  every  one 

who  possesses  the  least  taste  for  the  arts.  It 
gives  a  noble  idea  of  the  talents  of  ancient  ar- 
tists, in  portraying  mere  physical  beauty,  and 
in  giving  the  vigorous  expression  of  life  and 
muscular  strength  to  irrational  forms.  The  li- 
ons, panthers  and  eagles,  which  adorn  this  col- 
lection, do  not  resemble  those  which  we  com- 


335 


monly  see  stuffed  in  a  museum,  or  languishing 
in  the  confinement  of  a  menagerie.  They  have 
an'  ideal  grandeur.  It  is  the  lion  of  Lybian 
forest.  It  is  the  eagle  of  Mount  Caucasus, 
sovereign  of  birds. 

In  the  adjoining  apartment  among  a  number 
of  pieces  of  exquisite  beauty,  a  person  of 
the  least  taste  or  sensibility  will  not  fail  to  re- 
mark, a  triton  bearing  off  a  nymph  in  his 
arms.  The  tout  ensemble  of  this  group,  what 
ever  fault  may  be  found  with  it  when  ex- 
amined in  detail,  is  indescribably  poetick.  The 
laughing  features  and  arch  expression  of  the 
loves,  who  are  perched  upon  the  convoluted 
tail  of  the  sea-monster,  who  is  bounding  over 
the  waves,  is  an  idea  worthy  of  the  fancy  of 
Ovid,  while  the  disordered  and  voluptuous  form 
of  the  nymph  calls  to  mind  Ariosto's  pic- 
ture of  Angelica  in  the  same  situation. 

Per  le  spalle  la  chiotna  iva  disciolta, 
E  l'aura  la  facca  lascivo  assalto, 
Stavano  cheti  tutti  i  maggior  venti, 
Forse  a  tanta  belta  col  mare  attenti. 

The  Stanza  dell  Musee,  usually  denominat- 
ed the  temple  of  the  muses,  is  of  an  octa- 
gon  shape   decorated   with    lavish   embellish- 


336 


ment.  Sixteen  columns  of  the  marble  of  Car- 
rara, support  a  vault  richly  painted.  The 
pavement  is  of  ancient  mosaick.  The  light  des- 
cends vertically  through  a  central  opening  in 
the  dome,  and  is  diffused  over  the  divine 
forms  of  Apollo  and  the  Muses,  stationed 
conspicuously  upon  lofty  pedestals.  Around  are 
placed  the  principal  philosophers,  poets  and 
orators  of  Greece. 

Adjoining  this,  is  the  beautiful  circular  tem- 
ple, called  Sala  rotonda,  remarkable  for  the 
size  of  the  piece  of  ancient  mosaick  that  forms 
its  pavement,  and  the  magnificent  vase  of 
red  porphyry  fifty  feet  in  circumference,  which 
was  discovered  in  the  baths  of    Titus. 

In  enumerating  these  different  saloons,  I 
must  not  omit  the  Sala  a  Croce  Graca,  en- 
riched with  a  multitude  of  ancient  mosaicks 
and  bas  reliefs,  which  in  any  other  collection 
than  that  of  the  Vatican,  would  be  conspicu- 
ous objects,  but  which  are  lost  in  this  im- 
mense treasury  of  art.  Yet  amidst  this  splen- 
did profusion,  the  eye  is  struck  with  the  sar- 
cophagus of  red  porphyry  that  contained  the 
ashes  of  Constant  ia,  daughter  of  Constantino 
the   great.        It  is  only    by   reflecting  on  the 


337 

hardness  of  the  material,  the  boldness  of  re- 
lief, and  the  lightness  and  delicacy  of  the 
figures  that  adorn  it,  that  an  ordinary  obser- 
ver is  made  to  conceive  the  masterly  pow- 
ers of  the  hand  that  executed  it. 

The   Sala  a  Croce  Graca  is  connected  with 
the  Galleria  del  Candelabri,  and  the  library  of 
the  Vatican  by  superb  staircases,  supported  by 
pillars   of  white  and  red  granite.     The  Galle- 
ria dei   Candelabri^  as  its  name  imports,  is  a 
vast  assemblage  of  antique  candelabras  of  rare 
and   curious  workmanship.    They   constituted 
formerly  the  furniture   of  ancient  palaces  and 
temples.  This  terminates  in  the  gallery  of  paint- 
ings.     This  gallery    is  not   like   that  of   the 
Louvre,  a  collection  of  masterpieces.  There  are 
some  good  paintings,  the   beauties  of  which, 
however,   cannot  but  remain  unobserved  amidst 
the  immense  riches  of  the   Vatican,  and  with- 
in the  proximity  of  the  dazzling  miracles  of 
Raphael's  and  Michael  Angelo^s  genius.     Not- 
withstanding the  astonishment  and  delight  with 
which  I   used  to   behold   the  Musee  Napoleon, 
the  enjoyments   I   derived  from  my   visits  to 
the  Louvre  were  far  less  intense,  than  those 
I  experienced  within  the  walls  of  the  Vatican. 
Taken  altogether,    the   latter    appears    much 
44 


338 


better  adapted  to  the  culture  of  the  taste  and 
the  imagination,  and  to  the  encouragement  of  the 
higher  feelings  of  moral  and  religious  enthu- 
siasm* Should  the  student  here,  ever  become 
so  enamoured  of  the  works  of  the  ancients,  as 
to  believe  that  the  religious  ideas  and  fictions 
of  heathen  mythology,  furnish  the  happiest 
subjects  for  poetry  and  painting,  this  idea 
is  refuted  by  the  presence  of  St.  Peter's,  and 
the  monuments  of  painting  and  sculpture  that 
it  contains.  Here  the  works  of  Canova,  of 
Guido,  Dominichino,  Raphael  and  Michael  An- 
gelo  show  with  what  bright  conceptions,  Chris- 
tianity is  capable  of  enriching  the  artist's  inven- 
tion, and  how  much  its  divine  truths  and 
moral  precepts   have   contributed,    to 

"  Raise  the  genius,  and  to  mend  the  heart.'*, 

This  is  a  circumstance  of  more  importance 
than  is  generally  supposed  in  the  cultivation  of 
the  fine  arts.  The  works  of  the  ancients  are 
better  calculated  to  enrich  the  imagination, 
than  to  form  the  moral  taste.  However  happy 
they  were  in  seizing  those  ideal  forms  of  beau- 
ty, that  seduce  the  senses  and  the  imagination, 
and  however  noble  and  perfect  those  specimens 
are,  which  they  have  left  of  their  skill  in   por- 


339 


traying  the  external  forms  of  matter,  the 
true  sources  of  the  moral  sublime  are  to  be 
found  in  the  christian  scriptures.  How  much 
they  have  contributed  to  ennoble  and  enlarge 
the  sphere  of  poetick  invention,  may  be  seen 
in  the  Paradise  Lost  of  Milton,  and  for  their 
influence  upon  the  art  of  painting,  I  appeal 
to  the  sublime  compositions  of  Poussin  Le  Su- 
eur and  Raphael.  I  make  this  remark  because 
I  observed  in  the  French  school  of  painting 
a  considerable  falling  off  in  this  respect,  and  am 
apt  to  believe  that  a  collection  like  the  Lou- 
vre where  sacred,  ga}r,  and  voluptuous  sub- 
jects, were  promiscuously  mingled  together, 
was  not  calculated  to  remedy  this  failure. 
Who  for  instance  of  a  delicate  and  refined 
taste  could  view  without  being  shocked  the  Ju- 
piter and  Leda  of  Coreggio,  in  the  same  com- 
pany with  the  transfiguration  of  Raphael  and 
St.  Jerome  of  Dominwhhio,  or  behold  without 
disgust,  the  ale-house  frolicks  of  Tenters,  and 
the  comick  scenes  of  Van  Ostade,  placed  in 
the  same  collection  near  the  sublime  perform- 
ances of  the  pencil  of  Reubens  and  Rembrandt. 
This  confusion  of  subjects,  could  hardly  fail, 
I  think,  of  weakening  the  impression  which 
these  pieces  which  represent  the  most  striking 
events  of  sacred  history,  must  have  produced 


340 


when  suspended  over  altars,  and  encompassed  by 
objects,  all  of  which  were  calculated  to  encour- 
age and  augment  the  emotions  they  were  design- 
ed to  awaken.      If  I  may  judge  from  my  own 
feelings,   the  difference  of  effect  upon  the  mind 
of  the  artist,    must  be  great  indeed.      During 
two  successive  years  I  spent  in  Paris,  I  scarcely 
passed  a  week  in  which   I   omitted  to  visit  the 
Louvre,  and  although  I  was  in    the   habit  of 
hearing  daily  encomiums   on  pieces,  the  beau- 
ties of   which  I  could   not   perceive,    I     was 
more    inclined    to    suspect    that    this    differ- 
ence of  taste  proceeded  from  some  original  de- 
fect in   my   own   powers   of   perception,  than 
from  any  weakness  in  the  judgment   of  those 
to  whom   I   was    accustomed  to  apply   for  in- 
formation.      Like   every  juvenile   admirer   of 
pictures,  I  was  dazzled  by  that  glare  of  colour- 
ing,  and   parade  of  attitudes,  by  which  some 
painters  have  endeavoured  to  conceal  their  de- 
ficiency   in   the  nobler  requisites  of  their  art. 
From  which  I  was  convinced  that  a  collection  like 
the  Louvre  was  not  fitted  to  lay  the  foundation 
of  a  taste  for  the  simple  and  manly  beauties  of 
the  Roman   school,  but  was  likely  to  produce 
a  style,  in  which  truth  and  nature  would  be  sa- 
crificed to  mannerism  and  and  affectation. 


341 


This  conviction  was  not  weakened,  but  ra- 
ther confirmed  by  my  subsequent  visit  to  Italy. 
How  different  were  my  sensations  upon  seeing 
the  Transfiguration  and  the  St.  Jerome  in  the  Va- 
tican !  These  two  pieces  were  standing  unfram- 
ed  in  the  hall  of  Constantine.  They  had  not  long 
arrived  from  Paris,  yet  in  this  naked  insulated 
state,  they  awakened  emotions  far  more  pro- 
found than  any  I  had  ever  felt  in  contemplating 
them  in  the  Lrmvre  :  so  much  does  the  effect 
of  the  finest  masterpieces  of  genius  depend  up- 
on the  influence  of  association,  and  so  necessa- 
ry is  it,  that  the  mind  should  be  prepared  for 
the  effect  of  what  is  truly  sublime,  by  receiv- 
ing from  surrounding  objects  only  such  impres- 
sions as  correspond  with  the  predominant  tone 
of  feeling,  it  was  the  design  of  the  artist  to  in- 
spire. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  the  distribution 
of  the  Louvre,  was  ill  calculated  to  promote  this 
effect,  and  that  this  circumstance  has  had  a  sensi- 
ble influence,  upon  the  style  of  the  French  ar- 
tists for  some  years  past,  I  think  must  be  evi- 
dent to  every  one,  who  has  paid  attention  to  the 
biennial  expositions  of  the  Louvre.  In  that 
particularly  of  eighteen  hundred  and  twelve, 
I   did  not    observe  a   single  piece,    which  in 


342 


composition  or  execution,  could  lay  claim  to 
praise  of  the  first  degree.  In  the  choice  of 
their  subjects  too,  I  remarked  a  meanness  of 
invention  and  a  poverty  of  genius,  which  de- 
monstrated that  the  present  artists  of  the  French 
school,  inherit,  no  portion  of  that  creative  fire 
of  imagination,  which  produced  the  transcen- 
dant  compositions  of  Poussin  and  Le  Sueur. 
Most  of  the  subjects  selected  for  that  purpose 
were  chiefly  designed  as  compliments  to  diffe- 
rent members  of  the  imperial  family.  Here  an 
extensive  field  was  opened  for  the  display  of 
military  costumes  and  theatrical  attitudes,  and 
in  these  the  artists  on  that  occasion  indulg- 
ed their  genius  without  limit  or  restraint.  All 
this  I  take  to  be  the  consequence  of  a  de- 
generacy of  taste,  produced  by  the  vast  and 
promiscuous  collection  of  masterpieces  of  art 
at  Paris,  and  the  unsuitableness  of  the  Lou- 
vre, in  point  of  situation,  to  the  study  of  the 
works  of  genius.  The  crowded  and  tumul- 
tuous quays  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Lou- 
vre, and  the  mountebanks  and  marionettes  of 
the  place  Carousel,  harmonised  but  little  with 
the  study  of  the  fine  arts ;  whilst  no  sounds 
are  heard  near  St.  Peter's,  but  the  accents  of 
prayer  ;  a  sacred  stillness  pervades  these  beau- 
tiful receptacles   of   art,   and  the  murmur  of 


343 

its  fountains  is  in  harmony  with  that  freedom 
from  meaner  cares,  and  that  intellectual  re- 
pose, so  necessary  to  the  success  of  the  high- 
er efforts   of  imagination. 

Next  to  the  churches  and  architectural  mo- 
numents of  Rome,  its  palaces  and  villas  me- 
rit the  attention  of  the  traveller.  A  gallery 
of  pictures  generally  forms  an  indispensable 
part  of  the  establishment  of  every  Roman  no- 
bleman. To  give  a  minute  and  exact  de- 
scription of  each  of  these,  would  require,  be- 
sides a  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  paint- 
ing, far  more  time  and  attention,  than  I  have 
been  able  to  devote  to  the  subject.  Some  of 
these,  however,  are  of  such  striking  and  ori- 
ginal excellence,  that  while  they  furnish  in- 
exhaustible beauties  to  the  eye  of  an  experi- 
enced connoisseur,  they  captivate  the  most  un- 
skilful observer.  Such,  for  example,  is  the 
celebrated  fresco  representing  the  morning  by 
Guidoy  at  the  palace  Rospigliosi.  It  is  in  this 
inimitable  composition,  that  this  great  mas- 
ter has  displayed  all  the  charms  of  his  ima- 
gination, and  put  forth  the  whole  strength  of 
his  invention.  The  design  and  execution  of 
this  picture,  shews  how  near  the  pencil,  in 
the  hands  of  a  consummate  artist,  can  approach 


344 


to  the  sublime  creations  of  poetry.  Milton 
and  Tasso,  whose  descriptions  of  the  morn- 
ing are  so  peculiarly  beautiful,  in  embellishing 
the  same  subject,  have  borrowed  nearly  the 
same  delightful  imagery  and  enchanting  co- 
louring. Poetry  indeed,  by  the  vagueness  of 
Its  ideas,  and  the  unlimitted  range  which  it 
affords  to  the  imagination,  is  eminently  favour- 
able to  the  attainment  of  that  ideal  beauty, 
which  the  art  of  the  painter  is  too  gross  and 
material,  ever  completely  to  exhibit.  Here 
the  complaint,  which  Thompson  in  his  Cas- 
tle of  Indolence,  with  so  little  propriety,  puts 
into  the  mouth  of  the  poet,  may,  with  far 
more  justice,  be  ascribed  to  the  genius  of 
painting,  when  emulating  the  sublimer  efforts 
of  her  sister  art. 

No  fair  illusions,  artful  phantoms  no, 
My  muse  will  not  attempt  your  fairy  land, 
She  has  no  colours,  that  like  yours  can  glow, 
To  catch  your  vivid  scenes  too  gross  her  hand. 

Aurora  is  proceeded  by  the  dawn,  personi- 
fied under  the  form  of  a  beautiful  infant,  car- 
rying a  flambeau,  which  represents  the  bril- 
liant star  that  announces  the  day.  Its  rays 
are  too  feeble  entirely  to  dispel  the  night, 
and  accordingly  a  deeper  shade  surrounds  the 


345 


dawn,  than  that  behind  which  encircles  the 
lovely  figure  of  Aurora,  that  gradually  unveils 
herself  and  strews  the  earth  with  flowers,  as 
she  approaches.  At  last  Apollo  appears  mount- 
ed in  his  resplendent  car,  and  attended  by 
the  hours.  His  fiery  coursers  plunge  into  the 
heavens,  and  drive  away  the  mists  that  lin- 
ger behind  Aurora  and  the  dawn.  Another 
conspicuous  piece,  is  a  picture  by  Albano,  the 
subject  of  which  is  taken  from  the  story 
of  Rinaldo  and  Armida.  The  hero  of  Jeru- 
salem sunk  in  the  languors  of  effeminacy,  is 
assisting  at  the  toilet  of  his  beautiful  mis- 
tress. I  need  scarcely  remark  how  capable 
the  pencil  of  so  rich  and  exquisite  a  colour- 
ist  as  Albano  was,  of  doing  justice  to  a  subject, 
embellished  by  the  glowing  and  voluptuous 
fancy  of   Tasso. 

These  superb  mansions  of  the  Italian  nobi- 
lity have  a  lonely  and  melancholy  air,  which 
all  their  internal  splendour  and  magnificence 
cannot  dispel.  One  ranges  through  suites 
of  superb  apartments,  decorated  with  lavish 
embellishment,  and  peopled  by  the  creative 
hand  of  the  artist ;  but  their  vacancy  and  si- 
lence chill  the  imagination.  Objects  of  nature 
make  the  strongest  impression  upon  the  fancy, 

45 


346 


and  the  heart  in  those  situations,  where  no 
human  artist  dares  to  interfere  with  her  vast  and 
magnificent  designs.  Cliffs  visited  only  by  the 
Ibex  and  the  eagle — the  torrent  that  roars  down 
the  abrupt  precipice,  and  shakes  the  mountain 
with  its  fall,  or  scenes  of  decayed  magnifi- 
cence, which  bring  together,  in  one  view, 
the  perishable  structures  of  art,  and  the  un- 
wearied activity  and  unchangeable  course  of 
nature,  awaken  the  dormant  energies  of  the 
mind,  and  give  wings  to  the  imagination.  But 
the  deserted  abodes  of  wealth  and  luxury  cre- 
ate a  sensation,  too  much  allied  to  sorrow  to 
be  pleasing  long,  and  which  rather  oppresses 
than  invigorates  the  soul. 

The  delicious  villas  that  surround  Rome, 
like  the  fiction  of  the  happy  valley,  or  that 
of  Seged's  enchanted  island,  exhibit  the  un- 
substantial nature  of  human  enjoyments.  Their 
possessors,  sunk  in  the  languors  of  luxury, 
and  surfeited  by  the  banquet  of  perpetual  de- 
light, appear  to  have  fled  away  in  quest  of 
more  tumultuous  pleasures. 

The  villa  Pamjili  or  Belrespiro  is  situated 
near  the  Vatican  mount.  The  charming  aspect 
of  this  villa  frequently  attracted  me  to  contem- 


347 


plate  its  lonely  beauties,  and  to  inhale  an  at- 
mosphere perfumed  with  flowers  and  agitated 
by  its  numerous  cascades  and  fountains.  To  a 
visitor  who  has  seen  the  seats  of  Hagley  and 
Blenheim  in  England,  and  who  recollects  the 
views  of  Mortfontaine  and  Ermenonville  in 
France,  the  artificial  beauties  of  Belrespiro,  ap- 
pear to  depart  too  much  from  the  model  of  na- 
ture. The  unpleasing  effect  here  produced,  is 
somewhat  similar  to  that  which  arises  from 
those  modish  extravagances  of  dress  and  man- 
ners, which  are  so  revolting  to  the  unperverted 
taste  of  a  simple  and  ingenuous  mind.  It  is 
rather  splendid  than  beautiful.  Like  the  stu- 
died manners  and  brilliant  dresses  of  a  court, 
its  charms  have  a  dazzling  lustre,  which  is  dis- 
owned by  the  sober  aspect  of  truth  and  nature. 
Seated  near  the  margin  of  one  of  its  superb 
fountains,  in  the  figures  of  which  the  statuary 
had  laboured  to  depict  the  visions  of  ancient 
poetry,  or  stationed  on  one  of  its  terraces  that 
command  a  prospect  of  its  walks  and  alleys, 
sheltered  by  a  dense  and  impenetrable  covering 
of  foliage  from  the  blaze  of  an  Italian  sun,  and 
contemplating  those  beautiful  and  speaking 
forms,  which  meet  the  eye  at  the  end  of  every 
avenue,  I  could  not  help  contrasting  it  in  my 


348 

imagination,  with  the  air  of  softness  and  repose, 
which  so  eminently  distinguishes  the  scenery 
of  Ermenonville  in  France. 

Ermenonville  indeed  can  boast  no  transcend- 
ent groups  of  statuary,  to  stimulate  the  fancy 
by  classical  or  historical  images.  But  the  want 
of  such  embellishments,  is  supplied  by  the 
presence  of  higher  attractions.  Its  lakes, — its 
rocks, — its  hills, — and  valiies,  present  an  end- 
less diversity  of  views,  each  exhibiting  an  ex- 
tensive landscape,  glowing  with  the  charms  of 
nature.  Sometimes  a  lonely  lake  overhung  by 
the  birch  and  the  chesnut — its  shores  boldly  in- 
dented, forming  promontories  and  bays,  the 
unmolested  haunts  of  the  wild  duck  and  the 
bittern, — invites  the  spectator  to  the  enjoyment 
of  all  the  luxury  of  solitude.  The  deep  re- 
cesses of  its  forests  echo  with  the  rush  of  a 
cascade,  or  the  murmurs  of  a  rivulet.  Its 
wilder  features  too,  are  intermixed  with  the  most 
pleasing  and  cheerful  objects  of  a  rustick  nature, 
— a  water-mill, — a  peasant's  cottage, — a  ruined 
tower  of  Gabrielled' E trees,  peeping  from  amidst 
a  cluster  of  trees  ;  in  short,  such  an  assemblage 
"  of  rural  sights  and  rural  sounds,"  as  exhilirate 
the  fancy  and  produce  none  of  that  weariness, 
which  rarely  fails  to  attend  the  efforts  of  art, 
when  she  looses  sight  of  nature  and  simplicity. 


349 

In  lreio  aspetto  il  bel  giardin  s'aperse 
Acque  stagnanti,  mobili  cristalli, 
Fior  vari,  e  varie  piante,  erbe  diverse 
Apriche  callinette  ombrose  valli 
Selve  e  spelonche  in  una  vista  off'erse 
E  quel  che  l'bello,  el  accresce  all'opre, 
L'arte  che  tutto  fa  nulla  si  scopre. 

If  the  reader  is  not  fatigued  with  this  dis- 
sertation on  gardens,  he  will  attend  me  to  the 
villa  Borghese,  the  rival  of  villa  Pamfili. 
The  villa  Borghese  is  conspicuous,  even  when 
seen  at  a  distance,  by  its  lofty  groves  of  tufted 
cypress  and  pine,  to  which  as  well  as  those  of 
the  villa  Pamfili,  the  naked  and  unadorned 
environs  of  the  city,  give  a  bold  and  magnifi- 
cent relief. 

Quitting  the  piazza  delpopolo,  you  pass  by  the 
ruins  of  part  of  that  gigantick  wall  with  which 
the  Emperour  Aurelian  encompassed  the  city. 
The  gate  which  leads  to  the  villa,  is  remarka- 
ble for  the  size  and  beauty  of  its  two  piers, 
each  of  which  supports  an  eagle  finely  sculp- 
tured; the  crest  of  the  Borghese  family.  The 
principal  avenue  is  planted  on  each  side  with 
arbours  and  thickets,  interspersed  with  orange 
trees  and  other  green  house  plants.  Having 
reached  the  termination  of  this  walk,  the  beau- 


350 

ties  of  the  garden  expand  before  you.     On  the 
left  at  the  end  of  an  avenue,  bordered  with  co- 
pies of  antique   statues,    is    a   beautiful  lake, 
the  banks  of  which  are  shaded  with  poplars  and 
osiers.     On  an  island  in  the  midst  of  this  lake 
rises   a   beautiful  Ionick   temple  dedicated  to 
Esculapius,  whose  open  and  airy  portico  affords 
a  view  of  the  statue  of  the  god.     But  alas  !  the 
son  of  Apollo  is  here  stationed  in  vain,  nor  can 
his  presence  drive  away  the  "  pale  Quartana," 
a    sickly,    an   emaciated   deemon   that   haunts 
this  delightful  abode.     The  mal  aria  that  ren- 
ders the  Campagna  del  Roma,  almost  uninha- 
bitable, during  a  greater  part  of  the  summer, 
reigns  in  all  its  malignancy  at  the  villa  Borg- 
hese.    I  know  not  whether  I  was  filled  with 
more  regret  or  surprise  upon  being  told,  that 
this  superb  villa,  along  with  its  splendid  man- 
sion, was  during  the  most  beautiful  months  of  the 
year  abandoned  by  its  inhabitants.     It  was  with 
difficulty  that  I  could  associate  in  my  imagina- 
tion, the  melancholy  thought  of  disease,  with  a 
sun  so  resplendent  and  an  atmosphere  so   soft 
and  voluptuous.   The  gay  profusion  of  flowers 
that  wasted 

"  their  sweetness  on  the  desert  air." — 


351 


— its  tall  groves  of  cypress  murmuring  with  the 
breeze,  the  incessant  warbling  of  birds  and 
play  of  fountains,  realized,  more  than  any  thing 
I  had  ever  seen,  the  fairy  solitudes  of  Calypso 
and  Armida. 

The  Casino  or  mansion  house,  though  not 
in  the  best  style  of  architecture,  and  too  much 
kept  out  of  view,  has  both  in  its  exteriour 
and  interiour  appearance  an  air  of  magnifi- 
cence, which  corresponds  with  the  luxurious 
ornaments  of  the  gardens.  Its  saloons  are 
painted  with  frescoes,  and  its  portico  furnish- 
ed with  copies  of   the  most   admired  statues. 

The  proprietor  of  this  beautiful  villa  was 
living  at  Florence,  where  I  had  seen  him  in 
the  procession  on  the  banks  of  the  Arno, 
where  the  Tuscan  nobility  contend  with  each 
other,  in  the  brilliancy  of  their  equipages. 
Every  summer  evening,  an  immense  con- 
course of  carriages  evince  an  emulation,  which 
in  itself,  however  trifling  and  inglorious,  is 
not  unpleasing  to  a  traveller,  and  to  a  votary 
of  fashionable  pleasure,  gives  to  the  banks 
of  the  Arno>  attractions  superiour  to  all  the 
venerable  monuments  and  classick  charms  of 
the  Tiber.      Over  this  gay  crowd,   the  hor- 


352 


ses  and  equipage  of  Prince  Borghese  shone 
conspicuous.  His  repudiated  wife  Pauline, 
languished  amidst  the  solitude  of  Rome, 
sometimes  appearing  at  evening  in  the  dull 
procession  on  the  Corso,  while  the  prince 
true  to  the  custom  of  his  country,  was  li- 
ving at  Florence  with  his  new  mistress,  and 
exhibiting  her  daily  to  publick  view.  If 
he  repented  his  alliance  with  Buonaparte,  and 
considered  it  a  stain  upon  his  family,  let 
it  be  remembered  that  he  was  among  those, 
who  invited  the  Gaul  into  Italy,  and  deliver- 
ed up  the  persons  and  fortunes  of  its  nobi- 
lity and  clergy,  to  the  dominion  of  his  unspar- 
ing sword.  A  pious  catholick  and  a  full  bred 
Roman  of  the  present  day,  kindling  with  such 
recollections,  might  imagine  he  saw  the  great 
shade  of  Paul  the  fifth,  whose  name  is  cha- 
ractered  upon  the  sublime  front  of  St.  Peter's, 
looking  down  with  a  frown  of  stern  displea- 
sure, upon  this  unworthy  descendant  of  his 
house. 

The  views  from  the  villa  Borghese  are  emi- 
nently beautiful  and  picturesque.  The  tra- 
veller sees  here  assembled  in  one  magnifi- 
cent view  before  him,  all  those  objects  which 
he  has  often  examined   with  so   much    inter- 


353 


est  in  detail.  Among  these  the  most  conspicu- 
ous are  the  Pantheon,  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo 
and  the  site  of  the  ancient  capitol — a  multi- 
tude of  steeples  and  obelisks  rise  and  peo- 
ple the  air  above  the  city,  and  beyond  is  seen 
the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  swelling  above  them 
all  in  solitary  grandeur. 

It  was  a  source  of  no  little  surprise  to  me, 
to  find  the  villas  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Rome 
unfrequented,  except  by  a  few  straggling  vi- 
sitors, who,  like  myself,  were  carried  to  these 
places  by  the  strong  impulse  of  curiosity.  If 
the  villa  Borghese  were  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Paris  or  London,  it  would  be  crowded 
from  morning  till  night.  The  gregarious  dis- 
position of  the  French,  on  Sundays  and  other 
holidays,  gives  an  indescribable  air  of  gaiety, 
to  every  guinguette  and  garden  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Paris,  which  are  then  filled  with 
company.  My  memory,  at  this  moment, 
dwells  with  pleasure  on  the  dances  of  the  villa* 
geois,  I  witnessed  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire 
and  the  Garonne,   where 

Many  a  youth  and  many  a  maid, 
Dancing  in  the  chequered  shade, 
And  young  and  old  came  forth  to  play, 
On  a  sunshine  holiday. 
'Till  the  live  long  day-light  fail. 
46 


354, 


Such  sights  were  capable  of  banishing  every 
melancholy  reflection,  and  made  me,  for  a  mo- 
ment forget  the  horrours  of  an  unsparing  con- 
scription, that  at  that  moment  was  ravaging 
the  villages  in  France.  In  approaching  the 
capital,  this  vivacity  manifested  itself  as  uni- 
versally, but  softened  by  the  elegancies  of 
Parisian  taste.  Fashion  appeared  to  have 
erected  her  throne  in  the  bowers  of  the 
Thuilleries,  and  multitudes  whose  only  ob- 
ject was  to  dazzle  or  to  ensnare,  to  unveil 
the  dangerous  attractions  of  beauty  or  wealth, 
or  to  practice  the  irresistible  smile  of  cour- 
tesy,   here  daily   displayed   their   pretensions. 

Rome,  where  every  object  invites  to  reve- 
rie and  thought,  would  be  insupportable  to  one, 
who  had  learned  to  breathe  only  the  atmosphere 
of  Paris.  Here  the  worship  of  the  muses, 
restrains  all  pleasures  of  a  less  intellectual  na- 
ture. Its  villas,  its  palaces,  its  churches, 
its  repositories  of  art,  all  assist  their  influ- 
ence, where  a  loneliness  reigns,  well  fitted  to 
inspire  the  dream  of  fancy,  and  to  nourish 
that  voluptuous  tenderness,  which  gives  to  the 
pleasures  of  imagination  thier  intoxicating  effect. 

People  of  figure  and  fortune,  who  seek  at 
Rome  the  distractions  of  a  great  city,  have  here 


355 


ho  other  amusement,  than  that  of  exhibiting 
themselves  in  the  evening  in  their  carria- 
ges upon  the  corso,  whose  slow  and  mournful 
procession  is  an  image  of  that  time,  the 
flight  of  which  they  are  labouring  to  accelerate. 
In  vain  in  this  paradise  of  taste,  hiscory,  poetry, 
painting  and  sculpture  conspire  to  spread  a 
perpetual  banquet  for  the  imagination ;  all 
these  magical  delights  cannot  subdue  the  pow- 
erful demon  of  ennui. 

The  multitude  of  distinguished  artists,  how- 
ever, at  Rome,  gives  an  agreeable  tone  to  the 
conversation  of  the  higher  classes.  In  a  city 
where  every  artisan  and  valet  de  place,  prides 
himself  upon  being  able  to  point  out  the  beauties 
of  statuary  and  painting,  and  to  display  some 
knowledge  of  antiquities,  it  is  easy  to  conceive, 
that  artists  occupy  a  much  higher  rank  in  socie- 
than  they  do  in  other  places,  where  even  those 
who  have  received  a  liberal  education,  are  often 
destitute  of  the  first  rudiments,  of  a  taste  for  these 
pursuits.  To  such,  the  language  of  artists  must 
be  perfectly  unintelligible,  and  in  a  mind  not 
enriched  by  reflections  and  observations  on  the 
works  of  genius,  it  would  be  as  difficult  to  ex- 
cite a  perception  of  that  beauty  which  is  the 
object  of  them  all,  as  to  convey  to  a  man  born 


356 


blind  the  idea  of  colour.  But  the  Romans  who 
from  their  earliest  youth  have  constantly  before 
their  eyes,  tlie  fairest  pieces  of  architecture, 
painting  and  sculpture,  must  delight  to  hear  a 
language  spoken  which  they  understand,  and 
which  is  associated  with  impressions  coeval 
with  the  first  dawn  of  their  intellect.  For  this 
reason  they  talk  at  Rome  of  the  paintings  of 
Benvenuti,  and  the  works  of  Canova,  with  the 
seriousness  that  they  talk  at  Paris  of  the  opera, 
or  of  the  rival  pretensions  of  Mademoiselles 
George  and  Duchhnois.  This  species  of  con- 
versation, while  it  is  compatible  with  the  most 
perfect  innocence,  and  yields  to  the  heart  and 
imagination,  the  noblest  enjoyments,  affords 
a  powerful  stimulus  to  excellence.  Genius  lan- 
guishes in  a  community,  where  there  do  not 
exist  the  same  motives  to  excite  and  influence 
it.  It  must  be  animated  by  the  plaudits  of  the 
crowd,  as  well  by  the  praises  of  those  few  se- 
lect minds  on  which  taste  and  learning  shed 
their  influence.  Hence  no  atmosphere  is  so 
congenial  as  that  of  Rome,  to  a  mind  am- 
bitious of  excellence  in  the  fine  arts.  Here 
Michael  Angelo  conceived  the  sublime  model 
of  St.  Peter's,  and  here  Raphael  meditated 
the  matchless  performances  of  the  Vatican. 
Here  only,  Davide  thought  he  could  study  the 


357 


principles  of  painting, — and  this  haunt  of  the 
muses,  not  all  the  allurements  of  Buonaparte 
and  Paris  could  tempt  Canova  to  abandon. 

I  have  often  noticed  this  artist,  and 
some  of  his  unrivalled  performances.  Every 
one  at  Rome  bears  testimony  to  the  candour 
and  ingenuousness  of  his  character,  and  to  the 
amiable  modesty  with  which  he  receives  the 
homage,  which  is  universally  paid  to  his  talents. 
The  favourite  of  Buonaparte,  he  does  not  ap- 
pear, however,  on  all  occasions,  to  have  yield- 
ed an  implicit  obedience  to  the  caprices  of  his 
will.  I  have  heard  it  frequently  said,  that  in 
all  Canovcfs  likenesses  of  Buonaparte,  a  strong 
resemblance  may  be  traced  to  the  busts  of  Ne- 
ro, and  I  recollect  hearing  a  similar  remark  upon 
the  portraits  of  Madame  Mere,  by  the  same  artist 
and  those  of  Agrippina.  Did  this  not  evince 
a  little  mechancete  in  Canova,  towards  the 
house  of  his  imperial  patron,  or  was  the  re- 
semblance so  strong  in  nature,  as  to  render  it 
unavoidable,  even  in  the  hands  of  so  great 
an  artist  as  Canova.  Be  this  as  it  may,  there 
is  good  ground  for  believing  that  it  was  some 
secret  hostility  to  the  reigning  family,  that  at 
so  early  a  period  after  the  return  of  Pius  the 
seventh,  recommended  him  to  the  notice  and 
favours  of  that  Pontiff, 


158 


The  busts  of  Napoleon  by  this  artist,  which 
decorated  many  of  the  academies  of  Italy,  had 
been  removed  from  their  pedestals  and  thrown 
into  common  lumber  rooms.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty,  that  even  a  stranger  could 
obtain  a  sight  of  them ;  so  apprehensive  are 
the  present  government,  it  seems,  of  the  least 
circumstance,  that  may  have  a  tendency  to  re- 
call the  malignant  charm,  by  which  he  so  long 
enslaved  the  world,  and  so  solicitous  are  they 
to  draw  the  veil  of  oblivion  over  his  name 

After  a  few  general  observations  on  the  me- 
rits of  Canova,  as  an  artist,  I  refer  the  reader 
for  a  more  particular  account  of  his  works,  to 
those  parts  of  this  volume,  where  they  have 
already  been  notice. 

Canova,  is  undoubtedly  the  greatest  of  mo- 
dern sculptors,  and  the  only  one,  since  Phi- 
dias, and  Praxiteles,  who  appears  to  have  in- 
herited the  taste  and  genius  of  these  great  mas- 
ters, and  to  have  studied  their  works  with 
the  truest  devotion.  To  Michael  Angela,  the 
praise  of  original  genius  is  due,  and  that  sub- 
lime energy  which  he  transfused  into  some 
of  his  pieces,  can  never  be  too  much  admired. 
But  with  the  excellencies,    he  possessed  the 


359 


defects  of  an  original  mind.  In  his  attempt 
to  reach  that  commanding  vigour  of  expres- 
sion, at  which  he  aimed,  he  departs  too  much 
from  that  model  of  ideal  beauty,  the  essence 
of  which,  seems  to  consist  in  its  freedom,  from 
all  emotions  of  the  painful  or  violent  kind. 
How  well  this  principle  was  known  to  the 
artists  of  the  Grecian  school,  appears,  from 
the  celebrated  statue  of  JK'iobe,  in  the  Floren- 
tine gallery,  in  whose  countenance,  the  feel- 
ings of  maternal  grief  are  so  skilfully  exhibited, 
as  not  to  mar  its  divine  beauty.  After  Michael 
Angelot  sculpture  in  the  hands  of  Bernini  and 
his  scholars,  degenerated  into  affectation  and  ma- 
nerism.  Michael  Angelo  aimed  at  the  religious 
sublime,  and  it  must  be  confessed,  that  if  his 
works  have  not  the  purity  and  grace  of  ancient 
sculpture,  his  conceptions  have  a  grandeur, 
which  it  never  reached.  The  school  of  Ber- 
nini degraded  the  art,  by  making  it  con- 
form to  the  taste  of  a  particular  nation,  whilst 
Phidias  and  Praxiteles  endeavoured  to  fix 
in  their  immortal  works,  that  universal  and 
ideal  form  of  beauty,  which  is  almost  too  rerial 
for  the  imagination  to  seize,  by  refining  it  as 
much  as  possible,  for  every  thing  material  and 
terrestrial.  To  extract  the  essential  elements  of 
beautv  from  those  adventitious  circumstances, 


360 


with  which  in  nature  and  real  life  they  are 
always  found  combined,  is  the  office  of  taste. 
Hence  the  gradual  and  insensible  progress  of  this 
faculty  in  nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  from 
the  rudest  efforts  of  design  and  carving,  to  the 
transcendent  performances  of  an  Jpelles  or 
Phidias.  The  first  of  these  artists  is  said  to 
have  constellated  in  his  figure  of  Venus,  all 
the  scattered  rays  of  beauty,  which  in  his 
time  were  to  be  found  in  Greece.  The  same 
observation  applies  with  equal  justice  to  the 
works  of  the  statuary,  in  which  is  exhibited, 
that  pure  and  abstract  conception  of  beauty, 
at  which  ultimately  taste  arrives  after  a  long 
course  of  repeated  experiment  and  observa- 
tion. As  this  is  the  point  which  fixes  limits 
to  its  further  progress,  so  here  its  dege- 
neracy commences,  after  it  has  reached 
its  last  degree  of  refinement.  In  the  orna- 
mental arts,  as  well  as  in  the  severer  sci- 
ences, our  ineffectual  struggles  to  push  the 
powers  of  the  human  mind,  beyond  the  sphere 
of  their  natural  operations,  reconduct  it  to  bar- 
barism and  ignorance,  by  a  course  directly  the 
reverse  of  that,  which  leads  human  nature  to 
its  last  state  of  moral  and  intellectual  improve- 
ment. Nor  is  there  any  instance,  which  bet- 
ter illustrates  these  principles  of  taste,  than  the 


361 


history  of  the  art,  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking.  After  the  lapse  of  many  centuries, 
the  genius  of  Canova  has  revived,  with  all  its 
primitive  charms,  that  pure  and  ideal  form  of 
beauty,  for  an  account  of  whose  growth  and 
period  of  maturity,  we  must  have  recourse  to 
the  annals  of  Grecian  refinement. 

Many  imagined  that  no  sooner  were  the 
masterpieces  of  the  Vatican  transported  to  the 
banks  of  the  Seine,  than  the  arts  would  follow 
them,  but  the  unconquerable  predeliction  of 
Canova  for  the  seat  of  his  early  studies,  and 
the  seducements  that  were  so  long  employed 
in  vain  by  Buonaparte,  to  draw  him  to  the 
capitol  of  his  empire,  proves  that,  besides  pos- 
sessing the  great  works  of  antiquity,  Rome  in 
the  eye  of  an  artist  has  attractions,  which  not 
all  the  opulence  and  splendour  of  the  imperial 
court  could  communicate  to  Paris.  The 
chambers  of  the  Vatican  though  despoiled  of 
their  most  precious  ornaments,  still  retained  a 
sufficient  number  of  works  of  approved  excel- 
lence, to  enable  it  even  after  all  the  spoliations 
committed  by  the  French,  to  endure  a  com- 
parison with  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre,  and 
such  statues  as  the  Apollo  of  Belvidere,  the 
Laocoon,  and  the  .4/itinous,  had  been  so  mul. 
47 


362 

tiplicd  by  means  of  excellent  copies,  that  their 
loss,  except  as  a  badge  of  the  political  degra- 
dation of  their  country,  was  never  severely  felt 
by  the  Roman  artists. 

The  day  of  the  restoration  of  the  sublime 
originals  themselves  to  their  ancient  places  in 
the  Vatican,  was  marked  by  an  event,  not  sur- 
passed in  interest,  by  any  similar  occurrence, 
since  the  revival  of  the  arts.  VVhen  their  arrival 
near  the  city  was  announced,  its  artists  and 
amateurs  accompanied  by  the  principal  eccle- 
siastical and  civil  dignitaries  of  the  Roman 
state,  and  a  great  concourse  of  spectators,  mar- 
ched forth  beyond  the  walls,  to  hail  these 
exiled  divinities,  and  to  conduct  them  in  all 
the  pomp  of  a  triumphal  procession,  back  to 
their  native  shrines,  on  the  banks  of  the  Ti- 
ber. 

Something  there  was,  however,  to  shade 
the  brilliancy  of  that  day,  nor  were  the  pub- 
lick  rejoicings  on  that  occasion  wholly  unmix- 
ed with  regret.  The  sun  of  Napoleon's  glory- 
was  setting,  and  the  cannon  of  St.  Angelo, 
that  announced  the  arrival  of  the  Pope,  and 
the  Apollo  Belvidere,  was  the  4*nell  of  his 
departed  greatness  ! 


>63 


The  actual  state  of  Italy  affords  little  hope 
that  the  future  will  present  a  view  more  hap- 
py and  prosperous.  The  defects  in  her  present 
governments  display  themselves  every  where, 
in  the  condition  of  the  lower  orders,  and  as 
they  flow  from  causes  that  are  deep  and  radi- 
cal, there  is  little  prospect  that  the  feeble 
sovereigns,  under  whose  sway  she  is  now  pla- 
ced, will  be  able  to  remove  them.  Much 
good  is  expected  in  the  Roman  territories, 
from  the  acknowledged  abilities  and  profound 
views  of  Cardinal  Consalvi.  This  minister, 
in  order  to  conciliate  the  people,  without  sa- 
crificing to  their  wishes  the  interests  of  his 
sovereign,  studies  to  appear  the  advocate  of 
liberal  reform,  and  keeps  up  an  illusion, 
which  contributes  to  reconcile  the  publick 
feeling  with  a  government,  which  the  poiicy  of 
the  French  taught  the  mass  of  the  people  to 
despise.  This  policy  diminished  the  influence 
of  the  clergy,  and  a  sovereign,  like  Buona- 
parte, had  no  religious  scruples,  no  qualms  of 
conscience  to  check  him  in  his  career  of  bene- 
ficence. If  the  clergy  rebelled  he  treated 
them  as  other  rebels.  He  was  a  man  who 
paid  little  regard  to  names,  wherever  they 
were  employed  as  a  cover  to  assist  in  opposing 
his  views.     His  remedies  went  to  the  root  of 


364 


the  evil;  those  of  the  Cardinal  Consalvi  are 
palliative,  they  allay  the  acuteness  of  the  dis- 
ease, but  they  are  calculated  to  afford  no  per- 
manent or  substantial  relief. 

No  country,  perhaps,  has  suffered  more 
than  Italy,  from  the  oppression  of  overgrown 
land-holders,  and  the  imbecility  inherent  in 
her  present  governments,  helps  to  nourish  and 
perpetuate  this  abuse.  Her  tenures  of  landed 
property  are  upon  the  worst  footing.  This  is 
the  reason,  why  vast  tracts  of  her  soil  lie  waste 
and  uncultivated  ;  this  is  the  cause  of  the  in- 
digence, in  general,  of  her  peasantry,  and  the 
source  of  that  frightful  poverty,  which  exists 
in  a  country  enjoying  the  kindest  influences 
of  Heaven.  An  extreme  laxity  prevails  in 
the  present  Italian  governments,  with  regard 
to  the  class  of  men,  I  have  mentioned,  who 
are  often  tempted  by  a  prospect  of  gain,  to 
enrich  themselves,  by  a  general  calamity. 
When  I  was  in  Tuscany,  a  lively  indignation 
was  excited  throughout  the  lower  orders  of  the 
people,  against  prince  Corsini,  who  monopo- 
lised the  sale  of  grain  in  that  country  ;  and  at  a 
time,  the  people  were  literally  starving  through- 
out Italy,  the  Duke  of  Modena  was  pur- 
chasing grain  in  his  dominions,  and  retailing  it 
out  at  an  enormous  profit  to  his  own  subjects. 


365 


Other  noblemen  of  great  landed  estates  were 
speculating,  in  a  similar  manner,  on  the  mi- 
series of  the  poor.  The  Pope,  not  more  than 
the  grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  appears  to  be 
able  or  willing  to  suppress  these  petty  tyrants, 
while  the  people  cry  out,  e  una  disgrazia  dy 
aver  tanti  soveranucci. 

I  have  before  remarked,  that  the  policy  of 
Buonaparte  was  hostile  to  the  spirit  of  feudal 
oppression.  It  is  undoubtedly  the  object  of 
a  despotick  prince,  to  crush  every  thing  that 
dares  to  raise  its  head  above  the  level  of  a 
base  equality.  I  do  not,  therefore  give,  the 
late  emperour  of  France,  credit  for  the  relief 
the  poorer  classes  have  generally  experienced 
in  Italy,  in  consequence  of  the  diminution 
of  the  authority,  and  influence  of  its  nobility. 
The  contempt  and  hatred,  which  it  is  natural 
for  a  prince  of  arbitary  disposition,  to  cher- 
ish for  privileged  orders  in  general,  would 
have  equally  incited  him  to  the  ruin  of  a  vir- 
tuous, as  of  a  profligate  nobility,  but  when 
we  consider,  the  nature  of  the  materials  of 
which,  in  general,  the  Italian  aristocracy  is 
composed,  and  that  if  the  ferocious  features 
of  their  progenitors  are    effaced,    the   milder 


366 


traits  by  which  they  have  been  succeeded, 
do  not  redeem  the  faults  of  character  with 
which  they  are  blended,  that  even  such  ban- 
ditti as  the  Orsini  and  Vitelli  of  ancient 
times,  whose  destruction  is  considered  by  some 
politicians  as  the  fairest  act  of  Casar  Bor- 
gia's life,  notwithstanding  all  the  circumstan- 
ces of  bad  faith  by  which  it  was  accomplish- 
ed, that  even  the  predatory  lives  of  these  har- 
dy condottieri  exhibits  something  more  to 
be  admired,  than  any  thing  to  be  found  in 
the  trifling  or  unmanly  pursuits  of  these  mo- 
dern virtuosi^  I  do  not  think  it  need  cost 
those  who  are  sincerely  interested  in  the  wel- 
fare of  Italy,  a  pang  of  regret,  to  see  the 
power  and  influence  of  her  nobility  abridged, 
although,  thereby,  the  arm  of  arbitrary  power 
should  be  strengthened. 

I  have  already  noticed  the  insatiable  cu- 
riosity, which  exists  in  Italy,  relative  to  the 
government  of  the  United  States.  The  idea 
of  an  extensive  country,  flourishing  and  pros- 
perous, to  an  eminent  degree,  in  which  here- 
ditary monarchy,  and  an  hereditary  nobility 
are  unknown,  possessed  peculiar  attractions 
for  a  people,  whom  a  lively  sensibility  to   the 


367 


oppressions,  and  a  more  enlightened  view  of 
the  theoretical  evils  of  regal  and  aristocratick 
institutions,  were  awakening  to  the  charms 
of  liberty.  It  was  easy  to  perceive,  how 
much  the  example  of  this  country,  had  con- 
tributed to  unsettle,  especially  in  the  more 
thinking  classes  of  society,  the  ideas  con- 
nected with  reverence  to  nobility,  and  sla- 
vish obedience  to  kings.  Hereditary  monar- 
chy and  hereditary  nobility  depend  upon  illu- 
sions, which  the  freedom  of  thinking  of  the 
eighteenth  century  has  contributed,  in  a  great 
measure,  to  dispel.  The  American  revolu- 
tion, and  the  subsequent  events  in  Europe, 
combined  with  the  general  diffusion  of  know- 
ledge, have  enlightened  on  this  subject  the 
mass  of  mankind,  throughout  the  civilized 
world.  The  late  government  of  France  has 
also  had  an  important  influence,  in  accelera- 
ting this  change  in  publick  sentiment.  In 
that  government,  talents  of  almost  every  des- 
cription were  made,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the 
expression,  to  gravitate  from  the  lower  to 
the  higher  regions  of  the  state.  Not  only 
all  the  physical  resources,  but  all  its  moral 
and  intellectual  energies,  were  pressed  into 
its  service.    Whilst   such  a  government  exis- 


368 


ted,  it  must  have  largely  contributed  to  weak- 
en those  props,  upon  which  the  old  go- 
vernments of  Europe  were  forced  to  lean  for 
support  and  conservation.  These  props  were 
an  hereditary  monarchy,  and  hereditary  nobi- 
lity. Into  whatever  country  France  carried 
her  arms,  it  was  her  object,  as  far  as  she 
could  put  it  in  execution,  to  destroy  the  an- 
cient nobility  of  the  land,  and  to  efface  from 
the  soil  every  vestige  of  this  nature,  which 
might  serve  hereafter  as  a  rallying  point  to 
the  people. 

The  splendour  of  high  birth  was  eclipsed 
by  the  lustre  of  the  talents  civil  and  military 
of  those,  who  under  the  late  dynasty  were  the 
founders  of  their  own  fortunes.  The  rest, 
less  ambition  and  activity  of  mind,  which 
was  necessary  to  preserve  the  reputation  they 
had  acquired,  and  the  prodigies  of  genius 
and  valour  displayed  by  many  of  these  mili- 
tary adventurers,  threw  into  the  shade  that 
glory  which  is  derived  from  a  remote  ancestry, 
and  contributed  to  sink  in  the  estimation  of 
the  mass  of  the  people  of  Europe,  the  pre- 
tensions of  those,  who  had  no  other  proof  to 
exhibit  of  their  merit,  but  the  attestation 
of  a  coronet,  or  the  register  of  an  herald's 
office. 


369 


Let  it  not,  however,  be  understood  that  I 
think  the  abolition  of  privileged  orders,  a 
thing  either  attainable  or  desirable  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  Europe.  This  is  one  of  those 
events  depending  upon  causes,  which  time 
is  required  to  mature.  Any  violent  eradi- 
cation of  institutions,  which  have  struck 
their  roots  so  deep  and  wide,  would  be  at- 
tended with  a  sudden  and  ruinous  convulsion 
of  the  whole  social  fabnek.  To  use  the 
language  of  Mr.  Burke^  "  I  do  not  wish  to 
"  see  any  void  produced  in  society,  any 
"  ruin  on  the  f;ice  of  the  land."  But  the 
"  Corinthian  capital  of  polished  society," 
must  fall  when  it  shall  no  longer  be  essential  to 
the  solidity  of  the  political  edifice.  Some  in- 
stitutions were  necessary  in  the  infancy  of 
society,  to  rear  to  maturity  the  causes, 
which  were  finally  destined  to  subvert  them. 
Learning  took  root,  and  flourished  under 
the  shade  of  the  papal  power,  which  it  after- 
wards destroyed,  and  a  body  of  men  deco- 
rated with  honours,  and  fortified  by  privi- 
leges, when  the  population  of  Europe  was 
buried  in  slavery  and  ignorance,  was  per- 
haps necessary,  to  preserve  the  sentiment  of 
honour   from  extinction.      But    we    see  this 


48 


370 

sentiment  beginning  now  to  pervade  all  classes, 

and  gradually  obliterating  these  artificial  dis- 
tinctions, and  hastening  the  arrival  of  the  pe- 
riod, when  personal  acquired  nobility,  shall 
supersede  the  necessity  of  privileged  orders. 

"  We  first,"  says  an  eloquent  writer, 
"  throw  away  the  tales  along  with  the  rattles 
"  of  our  nurses ;  those  of  the  priest,  keep 
"  their  hold  a  little  longer,  those  of  our 
"  governours,  the  longest  of  all ;  but  the 
"  props  which  uphold  these  opinions  are 
"  withdrawn  one  after  another,  and  the  cool 
"  light  of  reason,  at  the  setting  of  our  life, 
"  shews  us,  what  a  false  splendour  played 
"  upon  these  objects  during  our  more  san- 
"  guine  seasons."  Such  has  been  the  pro- 
gress of  social  and  moral  refinement  in  Eu- 
rope. The  marvellous  tales  of  monkish  legends, 
occupied  the  dark  agts  that  gave  them  birth. 
Upon  this  soil,  pregnant  with  errours  and  su- 
perstitions, civil  and  ecclesiastical  tyranny, 
flourished  with  a  rank  luxuriance.  More 
than  three  centuries  have  elapsed,  since  the 
thunders  of  the  Vatican  have  ceased  to  roll ; 
and  if  we  look  back  and  reflect  upon  the 
cause  that  subverted  the  dominion  of  the  Pope, 


371 


and  disarmed  him  of  his  spiritual  lightnings, 
it  is  not  romantick  to  hope  that  the  arms 
of  civil  despotism,  which  were  tempered  in 
the  same  forge,  are  destined  to  perish  by  the 
operation  of  the  same  powerful  agent. 


THE  END. 


NOTE. 

THE  FLORENTINE  GALLERY  OF  ANATOMY. 

The  author,  hoping  at  some  future  pe- 
riod to  be  able  to  offer  to  the  publick  a  gene- 
ral view  of  the  literature  of  Italy,  has  not  said 
any  thing  in  the  foregoing  pages,  of  the  actual 
state  of  physical  science  in  that  country,  nor  of 
some  ofthost  splendid  establishments  for  its  pro- 
motion, with  which  a  succession  of  ages  has  en- 
riched her.  He  has  therefore  omitted  a  des- 
cription of  the  Florentine  gallery  of  natural 
history,  so  justly  extolled,  in  many  respects,  for 
the  beauty  and  variety  of  its  anatomical  prepa- 
parations.  The  author  examined  this  collec- 
tion, with  a  curiosity  proportionate  to  the  idea 
he  had  been  led  to  form  of  it  from  report,  and 
to  his  fondness  for  a  study,  which  early  drew 
his  attention.  He  thinks  it  but  justice  to  his 
native  city  to  declare,  that  the  specimens  apper- 
taining tO  the  UNIVERSITY  OF  MARYLAND* 
constituting  the  basis  of  a  future  gallery,  are  not 
surpassed  in  point  of  beauty  and  faithfulness 
of  execution,  by  any  thing  of  the  same  kind 
he  has  seen  abroad,  and  are  highly  creditable 
to  the  professional  skill  and  abilities  of  the 
gentleman,  who  directs  the  surgical  depart- 
ment,  and  under  whose  care  it  bids  fair  to  ri- 


val  even  the  splendid  collection  at  Florence. 
The  author  subjoins  this  note,  the  more  readi- 
ly, as  he  perceives  a  disposition  too  generally 
prevalent  in  this  country,  to  concur  with  foreign- 
ers, in  depreciating  the  value  of  our  own  stock 
of  science,  and  in  overrating  that  knowledge, 
which  is  derived  from  foreign  institutions. 


ERRATA. 

Page      7,  line  21,  for  Carybdis  read  Charybdis. 

11,  19,  for  she  read  if. 

23,  9,  for  Italian  rf-ad  Italians. 

23,  8,  for  would  read  should. 

31,  12,  for  people  read  nation. 

79,  18,  for  conversazzione  read  conversazione. 

80,  3,  ibidem. 

82,  22,  for  theatre  read  theatres. 

82,  25,  for  Phenice  read  Fenice. 

84,  10,  for  diletante  read   dilettante. 

88,  24,  omit  /Ae  before  musical. 

119,  20,  &  21,  for  seemed  to  stand  read  stood- 

120,  11,  omit  for  and  insert  it. 
120,  12,  before  the  humble. 
321,  20,  insert  the  before  loves, 
143,  23,  for  counsel  read  council. 
159,  6,  omit  and  after   figure. 

166,  for,  bestrided  read  bestridden. 

187,  8,  &  9,  for  gondoliere   read  gondolieri. 

195,     in  the  note,  for  has  been  renovated,  read  have  &C- 

202,  7,  for  was  any  other  read  was  no  other. 

215,  for  dissections  read  dissection. 

221,  in  the  second  verse' for  burn't  read  bum'd 

222,  9,  for  thickets  read  fountains. 
234,  2,  before  dreariness  insert  the. 

237,  for  de  suo  cuore  read  del  suo  cuore. 

237,  9,  for  even  read  ever. 

246,  7,  8,  &  53,  for  Appenhies  read  Apennines- 

257,  &.  8,  for  Pierro  read  Piero. 

272,  last  line  for  places  read  place. 

277,  16,  for  is  read  are. 

282,  9,  for  render  read  renders. 

282,  10,  for  endow  read  endows- 

282,  1 5,  for  renders  read  render. 

283,  17,  for  give  read  gives. 

286,  for  lhinellesco  read  Brunellesco, 

288,  4,  insert  the  before  forms. 

292,  for  Valsmium  read  Volsinium. 

298,  7,  omit  the  before  sanctuary. 

310,  8,  for  the  church  read  churches. 

370,  21,  for  he  presents  read   represents. 
313,  &  15,     for  majore  read  Maggiore. 

319,  21,  for  wept  over  read  wept  at. 

322,  4,  for  lead,  leads,  and  for  was,  is. 

358,  16,  for  notice  read  noticed. 


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